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Thomas Hobbes 



THE 

PHILOSOPHY OF HOBBES 



EXTRACTS AND NOTES 
COLLATED FROM HIS WRITINGS 

SELECTED AND ARRANGED 
BY 

FREDERICK J. E. WOODBRIDGE 

PROFESSOR OF PHILOSOPHY IN COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY 



MINNEAPOLIS 

THE H. W. WILSON COMPANY 

1903 






LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
Two Copies Received 

APR 8 1904 

Copyright Entry 

CLASS ^ XXc. No. 

COPY B 




/ 



Copyright, 1903 

by 

Thh H. W. Wilson Company 



PREFACE 

The text of the following selections from the writ- 
ings of Thomas Hobbes is that of the Molesworth edi- 
tion, London, 1841. The portrait of Hobbes is repro- 
duced from the same edition, and the title-page to the 
Leviathan is reproduced from a copy of the first edition 
in the possession of the Library of the University of 
Minnesota. Aubrey's Life of Hobbes has been reprint- 
ed without change, except for the omission of several 
notes, from the London edition, 1813, of his Lives oj 
Emifient Men. 

The book has originated in my conviction of the 
great historical importance of Hobbes as a thinker on 
philosophical and psychological problems, and in my 
appreciation of the value of his work in stimulating re- 
flection. The plan of the book has been determined 
by my experience in reading the works of philosoph- 
ers with classes in the history of philosophy. I have 
found critical introductions to be more of an evil than 
a good, because they are naturally read first, and thus 
make an immediate and uncolored impression by the 
author impossible. The same is true of notes added 
as a commentary to the text. I have therefore omitted 
both the introduction and notes customary in books of 
this kind. In their place, I have collated passages from 
the writings of Hobbes, which serve to supplement and 
clarify the text. By this means the book has been 
made to present practically all that Hobbes has con- 
tributed to the main questions of philosophy and 
psychology. I have omitted in the selections the de- 



iv PREFACE 

tails of his mathematical, physical, and political theo- 
ries. The list of his writings, which follows Aubrey's 
account of his life, shows the extent and variety of his 
literary activity. For critical discussions of Hobbes, 
the reader is referred to G. C. Robertson's Hobbes and 
his article on Hobbes in the Encyclopaedia Britannica, 
and to the bibliography in E. H. Sneath's Ethics of 
Hobbes. 

I wish to express here my thanks to Professor Nor- 
man Wilde of the University of Minnesota for the many 
valuable suggestions he made while the book was in 
preparation, and to Miss Ethel C. Brill for the help she 
has given me in reading the proof and in indexing the 
selections from the Elements of Philosophy. 

Frederick J. E. Woodbridge. 

Columbia University, January, 1903. 



CONTENTS 

Preface Hi 

Life of Thomas Hobbes by John Aubrey ... vii 

List of the Writings of Thomas Hobbes .... xxxv 
Selections from the Elements of Philosophy concerning 

Body I~76 

Chapter I. Of Philosophy 1 

II. Of Name9 . 13 

III. Of Propositions 26 

IV. Of Syllogism 36 

V. Of Erring, Falsity, and Captions ... 39 

VI. Ot Method '. 46 

Selections from Leviathan . . . . . 77-379 

The Epistle Dedicatory 79 

The Introduction 81 

Chapter I. Of Sense 84 

1. Supplement from Elements of Philosophy, 

Chapter XXV 86 

II. Supplement from Human Nature, Chap- 
ter II, 95 

II. Of Imagination 101 

III. Of the Consequence or Train of Imaginations 113 

IV. Of Speech 120 

V. Of Reason and Science .... 131 

VI. Of the Interior Beginnings of Voluntary Mo- 
tions, commonly called the Passions; and 

the Speeches by which they are expressed 143 

Supplement from Liberty and Necessity . 165 

VII. Of the Ends, or Resolutions of Discourse . 172 
VIII. Of the Virtues commonly called Intellectual; 

and their contrary Defects . . . 178 
IX. Of the Several Subjects of Knowledge . 193 
X. Of Power, Worth, Dignity, Honour, and Worth- 
iness ....... 196 

XI. Of the Difference of Manners ... 208 

XII. Of Religion 217 

XIII. Of the Natural Condition of Mankind as con- 
cerning their Felicity and Misery . . 232 



CONTENTS 



Parallel Chapter from Philosophical Rudiments, 

Chapter I ..... 239 
Of the First and Second Natural Laws, and of 

Contract 251 

Parallel Chapter from Philosophical Rudiments, 

Chapter II 265 

Of other Laws of Nature .... 278 
Parallel Chapter from Philosophical Rudiments, 

Chapter III 294 

Of Persons, Authors, and Things Personated 313 
Of the Causes, Generation, and Definition of a 

Commonwealth ..... 319 

Of the Rights of Sovereigns by Institution . 325 

Of the Kindom of God by Nature . . 342 
Of what is Necessary for a Man's Reception 

into the Kingdom of Heaven . . . 356 

Review and Conclusion 368 

. .380 



XIV. 



XV. 

XVI. 
XVII. 

XVIII. 
XXXI. 
XLIII. 



Index 



LIFE OF MR. THOMAS HOBBES 
OF MALMSBURIE. 

BY 

JOHN AUBREY. 



LECTORI. 

Tis religion to performe the will of the dead. I 
therefore dischardge my promise, performing the last of- 
fice to my hon'rd friend Mr. T. H. Since nobody knew 
so many particulars of his life as myselfe, he desired 
that if I survived him, it should be handed to posterity by 
my hands, w'ch I declare and avow to doe ingenuously 
and impartially. One sayes that when a learned man 
dyes, a great deal of learning dyes with him. He was 
Humeri ingenii, never dry. Amongst innumerable ob- 
servations which deserved to be sett downe, these few 
that have not escaped my memory, I humbly offer to the 
present age and posterity, tanquam tabulam naufragii; 
as plankes and lighter things swimme, and are preserved, 
whereas the more weighty sinke and are lost. And as 
with the light after sun-sett, at which time it is clear, by 
and by comes the crepuscule, then totall darkness; in 
like manner is it with matters of antiquitie. Men thinke, 
because everybody remembers a memorable accident 
shortly after it is done, 'twill never be forgotten, w'ch for 
want of entering, at last is drowned in oblivion. This 
reflection has been a hint, that by my meanes many an- 
tiquities have been rescued from oblivion and preserved, 
I myselfe now inclining to be ancient. 



viii LECTORI 

For that I am so minute, I declare I never intended it, 
but setting downe in my rude draught every thing, with 
purpose, upon review, to retrench what was superfluous 
and triviall, I shewed it to some friends of mine (who 
also were of Mr. Hobbes's acquaintance) whose judg- 
ments I much value ; who gave their opinion, and 'twas 
clearly their judgement, to let all stand; for though to 
some at present it might appeare too triviall ; yet here- 
after 'twould not be slighted, but passe for antiquity. 
And besides I have precedents of reverend writers to 
plead, who have in some lives veiled things as triviall, 
nay, the sayings and actions of good woemen. I am also 
to beg pardon of the Reader, for a long digression, viz. 
Malmesbury and Gorambery, but this also was advised, 
as the only way to preserve them. I hope its novelty and 
pleasantness will make compensation for its length. 

Yours, 

J. A. 



It was usual with the writers of the lives of the an- 
cient philosophers, in the first place, to speake of their 
lineage ; and they tell us that in processe of time severall 
illustrious families accounted it their glory to be derived 
from such or such a Sapiens. Why now should that 
method be omitted in this Historiola of our Malmesbury 
Philosopher, who though but of plebeian extraction, his 
renowne has and will give brightnesse to his name and 
familie, which hereafter may arise and flourish in riches, 
and may justly take it an honour to be of kin to this 
worthy person, so famous for his learning, both at home 
and abroad. 

Thomas Hobbes, whose life I write, was second son 
of Mr. Thomas Hobbes, vicar of Charlton and Westport, 
juxta Malmesbury. — Thomas, the father, was one of the 



LIFE OF HOBBES ix 

ignorant Sr. Johns of Q. Elizabeth's time, could only read 
the prayers of the church, and the homilies ; and valued 
not learning, as not knowing the sweetness of it. He 
had an elder brother whose name was Francis, a wealthy 
man. and alderman of the borough ; by profession a 
glover, which is a great trade here, and in times past 
much greater. Having no child, he contributed much to, 
or rather altogether maintained, his nephew Thomas, at 
Magdalen-hall, in Oxon ; and when he dyed gave him 
agellum, a pasture, called Gasten-ground, lying neer to 
the horse-faire, worth 16 or 18 poundes per annum; the 
rest of his landes he gave to his nephew Edmund. 

Thomas, the vicar of Westport, maried . . . 
Middleton, of Brackenborough, (of a yeomanly family) 
by whom he had two sonnes, and one daughter. Ed- 
mund, his eldest, was bred up to his uncle's profession of 
a glover. Edmund was about two yeares elder than his 
brother Thomas (philosopher), whose life I now w r rite, 
and something resembled him in face, but fell much short 
of him in his intellect, though he was a good plain under- 
standing countryman. He had been bred at schoole with 
his brother; could have made theme, and verse, and un- 
derstood a little Greek to his dyeing day. He dyed 
about 13 yeares since, aetat. circiter 80. 

This Edmund had only one son named Francis, and 
two daughters maried to countrymen (renters) in the 
neighbourhood. Francis pretty well resembled his uncle 
Thomas, especially about the eie; and probably had he 
had a good education might have been ingeniose ; but he 
drowned his witt in ale. He was left by his father and 
uncle Thomas, 8olib. or better per annum, but he was an 
ill husband. He dyed about two yeares after his father, 
and left five children. 

Westport is the parish without the west-gate, w'ch is 



x LIFE OF HOBBES 

now demolished ; which gate stood on the neck of land 
that joines Malmesbury to Westport. Here was, before 
the late warres, a very pretty church, consisting of a nave 
and aisles, which took up the whole area, dedicated to St. 
Mary ; and a fair spire-steeple, with five tuneable bells, 
which, when the towne was taken (about 1644) by Sir 
W. Waller, were melted (converted into ordinance), and 
the church pulled downe to the ground, that the enemie 
might not shelter themselves against the garrison. The 
steeple was higher than that now standing in the borough, 
which much adorned the prospect. The windowes were 
well painted, and in them were inscriptions that declared 
much antiquitie ; now is here rebuilt a church like a stable. 

Thomas Hobbes, Malmesburiensis Philosophus, was 
borne at his father's house in Westport, being that ex- 
treme house that pointes into, or faces the horse-fayre ; 
the farthest house on the left hand as you goe to Tedbury, 
leaving the church on the right. To prevent mistakes, 
and that hereafter may rise no doubt what house was 
famous for this famous man's birth; I doe here testifie 
that in April, 1659, his brother Edmund went with me 
into this house, and into the chamber where he was borne. 
Now things begin to be antiquated, and I have heard 
some guesse it might be at the house where his brother 
Edmund lived and dyed ; but this is so, as I here deliver 
it. This house was given by Thomas, the vicar, to 
his daughter . . . whose daughter or grand-daughter 
possessed it, when I was there. It is a firme house, 
stone-built, and tiled, of one roome, with a buttery (or the 
like) below, and two chambers above. It was the inner- 
most where he first drew breath. 

The day of his birth was April the fifth, A'o. D'ni. 
1588, on a Fryday morning, w'ch that year was Good 
Fryday. His mother fell in labour with him upon the 



LIFE OF HOBBES xi 

fright of the invasion of the Spaniards ; he told me him- 
self between the hours of four and six ; but by rectifica- 
tion his nativity is found to be at . . . His horoscope 
is tf having in it a satellitium of 5 of the 7 planets. 
It is a maxime in astrology that a native that hath a 
satellitium in his ascendent proves more eminent in his 
life than ordinary. 

At four yeares old he went to schoole in Westport 
church, till eight; at that time he could read well, and 
number four figures. Afterwards he went to schoole to 
Malmesbury, to Mr. Evans, the minister of the towne, 
and afterwards to Mr. Robert Latimer, a young man of 
about nineteen or twenty, newly come from the Univer- 
sity, who then kept a private schoole in Westport, where 
the broad place is, next door north from the smyth's shop, 
opposite to the Three Cuppes, (as I take it.) He was a 
batchelor and delighted in his scholar, T. H.'s company, 
and used to instruct him, and two or three ingeniose 
youths more, in the evening till nine o'clock. Here T. H. 
so well profited in his learning, that at fourteen years of 
age, he went away a good school-scholar to Magdalen- 
hall, in Oxford. It is not to be forgotten, that before 
he went to the University, he had turned Euripidis Medea 
out of Greeke into Latin Iambiques, which he presented 
to his master. Mr. H. told me that he would fain have 
had them, to have seen how he did grow in . . . ; 
twenty odde yeares agoe I isearcht all Mr. Latimer's pa- 
pers, but could not find them; the good houswives had 
sacrificed them, the oven (pies) had devoured them. I 
have heard that when he was a boy he was playsome 
enough, but withall he had then a contemplative melan- 
cholinesse ; he would gett him into a corner, and learn 
his lesson by heart presently. His haire was black, and 
the boys, his schoolfellows, were wont to call him Crowe. 



xii LIFE OF HOBBES 

This Mr. Latimer was a good Grecian, and the first that 
came into our parts since the Reformation. He was af- 
terwards minister of Malmesbury, and from thence pre- 
ferred to a better living of iool. per ann. or more, at 
Leigh-de-la-mere within this hundred. 

At Oxford he used, in the summer time especially, to 
rise very early in the morning, and would tye the leaden- 
counters (w'ch they used in those dayes at Christmas at 
post and pay re) with strings, which he did draw through 
birdlime, and bayte them with parings of cheese, and the 
jack-da wes would spye them a vast distance up in the 
aire, as far as Osney-abbey, and strike at the bayte, 
and so be ... in the string, w'ch the wayte of the 
counter would make cling about their wings. He did 
not much care for logick, yet he learned it, and thought 
himself a good disputant. He tooke great delight there 
to go to the book-binders' and stationers' shops, and lye 
gaping on mappes, of which he takes notice in his life 
written by himself, in verse : 

Ergo ad amoena magis me verto, librosque revolvo, 
Ouos prius edoctus, non bene doctus eram. 

Pascebamque animum chartis imitantibus orbem, 
Telluris faciem, et sidera picta videns, 

Gaudebam soli comes ire, et cernere cunctis 
Terricolis justos qua facit arte dies. 
After he had taken his Batchelor of Arts' degree, the 
then Principall of Magdalen-hall recommended him to 
his young lord when he left Oxon, who did believe that 
he should profitt more in his learning, if he had a scholar 
of his owne age to wayte on him, than if he had the in- 
formation of a grave doctor ; he was his lordship's page, 
and rode a hunting and hawking with him, and kept his 
privy-purse. By this way of life he had almost forgott 
his Latin. He then bought him bookes of an Amsterdam 



LIFE OF HOBBES xiii 

print, that he might carry in his pocket (particularly 
Caesar's Commentaries) w'ch he did read in the lobbey, 
or ante-chamber, whilst his lord was making his visits. 

The Lord Chancellor Bacon loved to converse with 
him. He assisted his Lordship in translating severall of 
his essayes into Latin, one I well remember is that, Of the 
Greatness of Cities : the rest I have forgott. His Lordship 
was a very contemplative person, and was wont to con- 
template in his delicious walkes at Gorambery, and dic- 
tate to Mr. Bushell, or some other of his gentlemen, that 
attended him with ink and paper ready to sett downe 
presently his thoughts. His Lordship would often say 
that he better liked Mr. Hobbes's taking his thoughts, 
than any of the others, because he understood what he 
wrote, which the others not understanding, my Lord 
would many times have a hard task to make sense of what 
they writt. 

It is to be remembered that about these times, Mr. 
T. H. was much addicted to musique, and practised on 
the bass-viol. 

This summer [1634] Mr. T. H. came into his native 
country to visitt his friends, and amongst others he came 
to see his old schoolmaster, Mr. Rob. Latimer, at Leigh- 
de-la-mere, when I was then a little youth at school, in 
the church, newly entered into my grammar by him. 
Here was the first place and time that ever I had the 
honour to see this worthy, learned man, who was then 
pleased to take notice of me, and the next day came and 
visited my relations. He was a proper man, briske, and 
in very good equipage ; his ha^re was then quite black. 
He stayed at Malmesbury, and in the neighbourhood, a 
weeke or better ; 'twas the last time that ever he was in 
Wiltshire. 

He was forty yeares old before he looked on geom- 



xiv LIFE OF HOBBES 

etry, w'ch happened accidentally; being in a gentleman's 
library in . . . Euclid's Elements lay open, and it 
was the 47 Prop. Lib. I. So he reads the proposition, 
"By G — ," says he, "this is impossible !" So he reads the 
demonstration of it, w'ch referred him back to another, 
w'ch he also read, et sic deinceps, that at last he was 
demonstratively convinced of that truth. This made 
him in love with geometry. I have heard Sr. Jonas 
Moore (and others) say that 'twas a great pity he had 
not begun the study of the mathem. sooner; for such a 
working head and curious witt would have made great 
advancement in it. Had he done so, he would not have 
layn so open to his learned mathematicall antagonists. 
But one may say of him, as one sayes of Jos. Scaliger, 
that where he erres, he erres so ingeniosely, that one had 
rather erre with him, than hitt the marke with Clavius. 
I have heard Mr. Hobbes say, that he was wont to draw 
lines on his thigh, and on the sheetes abed, as also mul- 
tiply and divide. He would often complain, that algebra 
(though of great use) was too much admired, and so fol- 
lowed after that it made men not contemplate and con- 
sider so much the nature and power of lines, w'ch was a 
great hinderance to the growth of geometrie; for that 
though algebra did rarely well and quickly, and easily in 
right lines, yet 'twould not bite in solid geometrie. 

After he began to reflect on the interest of the King 
of England, as touching his affaires between him and the 
Parliament, for ten yeares together his thoughts were 
much, or almost altogether unhinged from the mathe- 
matiques; but chiefly intent on his "De Cive", and after 
that on his "Leviathan", w'ch was a great putt-back to 
his mathematicall improvement: quod N. B. for in ten 
yeares' (or better) discontinuance of that study (espe- 
cially) one's mathcmatiques will become very rusty. 



LIFE OF HOBBES xv 

"When the Parliament sate that began in April, 1640, 
and was dissolved in May following, and in which many 
pointes of the regall power, which were necessary for the 
peace of the kingdome and safety of his Majestie's per- 
son, were disputed and denied, Mr. Hobbes wrote a little 
treatise in English, wherein he did sett forth and demon- 
strate, that the sayd power and rights were inseparably 
annexed to the sovereignty, which sovereignty they did 
not then deny to be in the King ; but it seems understood 
not, or would not understand, that inseparability. Of 
this treatise, though not printed, many gentlemen had 
copies, which occasioned much talk of the author; and 
had not his Majestie dissolved the Parliament, it had 
brought him in danger of his life."* 

Mem. he told me that Bp. Manwaring (of St. 
David's) preached his doctrine; for which, among others, 
he was sent prisoner to the Tower. Then thought Mr. 
Hobbes, it is time now for me to shift for myselfe, and 
so went into France, and resided at Paris. As I re- 
member, there were others likewise did preach his doc- 
trine. This little MS. treatise became his book "De 
Cive", and at last grew to be so formidable, and . 
Leviathan ; the manner of writing of which booke was 
thus. He walked much and contemplated, and he had in 
the head of his cane a pen and ink-horne, carried always 
a note-booke in his pocket, and as soon as a thought 
darted, he presently entered it into his booke, or otherwise 
might have lost it. He had drawne the designe of the 
booke into chapters, &c. he knew whereabout it would 
come in. Thus that booke was made. 

"He wrote and published the Leviathan far from the 



*Mr. Hobbes Considered, p. 4. printed 1662, since reprinted. 
1680, by W. Crooke. [The subsequent quotations by Aubrey are 

from the same source.! 



xvi LIFE OF HOBBES 

intention either of disadvantage to his Majestie, or to 
flatter Oliver (who was not made Protector till three or 
four yeares after) on purpose to facilitate his returne ; 
for there is scarce a page in it that he does not upraid 
him. 

' 'Twas written in the behalfe of the faithfull sub- 
jects of his Majestie, that had taken his part in the war, 
or otherwise done their utmost endeavour to defend his 
Majestie's right and person against the rebells : whereby, 
having no other meanes of protection, nor (for the most 
part) of subsistence, were forced to compound with your 
masters, and to promise obedience for the saving of their 
lives and fortunes, which in his booke he hath affirmed, 
they might lawfully doe, and consequently not bear arms 
against the victors. They had done their utmost en- 
deavour to performe their obligation to the King, had 
done all they could be obliged unto; and were conse- 
quently at liberty to seeke the safety of their lives and 
livelihood wheresoever, and without treachery. 

"His Majestie was displeased with him (at Paris) for 
a while, but not very long, by means of some complayn- 
ing of, and misconstruing his writing. But his Majestie 
had a good opinion of him, and sayd openly, that he 
thought Mr. Hobbes never meant him hurt. 

"Before his booke 'De Homine' came forth, nothing 
of the optiques writt intelligibly. As for the Optiques 
of Vitellio, and severall others, he accounts them rather 
geometry than optiques. 

"So also of all other arts ; not every one that brings 
from beyond seas a new gin, or other janty devise, 
is therefore a philosopher. For if you reckon that way, 
not only apothecaries and gardeners, but many other 
sorts of workmen will put in for, and get the prize. 

"Then, when I see the gentlemen of Gresham College 



LIFE OF HOBBES xvii 

apply themselves to the doctrine of motion (as Mr. 
Hobbes has done, and will be ready to helpe them in it, 
it they please, and so long as they use him civilly), I will 
looke to know some causes of naturall events from them, 
and their register, and not before ; for nature does noth- 
ing but by motion. 

"The reason given by him, why the drop of glass so 
much wondered at, shivers into so many pieces, by break- 
ing only one small part of it, is approved for probable, 
and registered in their colledge : but he has no reason to 
take it for a favour, because hereafter the invention may 
be taken, by that means, not for his, but theirs. 

"As for his self-praise, they can have very little skill 
in morality, who cannot see the justice of commending a 
man's selfe. as well as of anything else, in his own de- 
fence. 

"Then for his morosity and peevishnesse, with which 
some asperse him, all that know him familiarly, know the 
contrary. It is true, that when vain and ignorant young 
scholars, unknown to him before, come to him on purpose 
to argue with him, and fall into indiscrete and uncivill 
expressions, and he then appeare not well contented, it 
was not his morosity, but their vanity, which should be 
blamed." 

Anno 1650 or 1651, he returned into England and 
lived most part in London, in Fetter-lane, where he writ, 
or finished his booke "De Corpore", which came out 
Anno ... in Latin, and then in English, and writt 
his lessons against the Savilian Professors at Oxon. 

About this time (1655 or 1656) he settled the piece of 
land, given to him by his uncle, upon his nephew Francis 
for life, the remainder to his nephew's eldest son, Thomas 
Hobbes ; he also not long after discharged a mortgage of 
two hundred pounds, besides the interest thereof, with 



xviii LIFE OF HOBBES 

which his nephew Francis (a careless husband) had in- 
cumbered his estate. 

He was much in London till the restauration of his 
Majesty, having here convenience not only of bookes, 
but of learned conversation, as Mr. J. Selden, Dr. Wm. 
Harvey, J. Vaughan, &c. whereof anon in the catalogue 
of his acquaintance. I have heard him say, that in my 
Lord's house, in Derbyshire, there was a good library, 
and bookes enough for him, and his Lordship stored the 
library with what bookes he thought fitt to be bought ; 
but he sayd, the want of good conversation was a very 
great inconvenience, and that though he conceived he 
could order his thinking as well perhaps as another, yet 
he found a great defect : methinkes in the country, in 
long time, for want of good conversation, one's under- 
standing and invention grow mouldy. 

Amongst other of his acquaintance, I must not forget 
our common friend, Mr. Samuel Cowper, the prince of 
limners of this last age, who drew his picture as like as 
art could afford, and one of the best pieces that ever he 
did; which his Majesty, at his returne, bought of him, 
and conserves as one of his greatest rarities in his closet, 
at Whitehall. 

The winter-time of 1659 he spent in Derbyshire; in 
March following was the dawning of the coming in of 
our gracious sovereign, and in April the Aurora. It 
happened about two or three dayes after his Majesty's 
happy returne, that as he was passing in his coach 
through the Strand, Mr. Hobbes was standing at Little 
Salisbury-house gate, (where his Lord then lived,) the 
King espied him, putt off his hatt very kindly to him, 
and asked him how he did. About a week after he had 
oral conference with his Majesty and Mr. S. Cowper, 
where, as he sat for his picture, he was diverted by Mr. 



LIFE OF HOBBES xix 

Hobbes's pleasant discourse. Here his Majesty's favours 
were redintegrated to him, and order was given that he 
should have free accesse to his Majesty, who was always 
much delighted in his witt and smart repartees. The 
witts at Court were wont to bayte him ; but he would 
make his part good, and feared none of them. The King 
would call him the Beare : Here comes the Beare to be 
bayted. He was marvellous happy and ready in his re- 
plies, and that without rancour, (except provoked) ; but 
now I speake of his readiness in replies as to witt and 
drollery. He would say, that he did not care to give, 
neither was he adroit at, a present answer to a serious 
quaere ; he had as lieve they should have expected an ex- 
temporary solution to an arithmeticall probleme, for he 
turned, and winded, and compounded in philosophy, 
politiques, &c. as if he had been at mathematicall worke ; 
he always avoided, as much as he could, to conclude 
hastily. 

In 1659, and some yeares before, his lord was at Lit- 
tle Salisbury-house (now turned into the Middle-Ex- 
change), where he wrote, among other things, a poeme 
in Latin hexameter and pentameter, on the Encroach- 
ment of the Clergie (both Roman and Reformed) on the 
Civil Power. I remember I saw there five hundred 
verses and more. He did read Cluverius's Historia Uni- 
versalis, and made up his poeme from thence. His place 
of meditation was then in the portico in the garden. He 
sayd that he sometimes would sett his thoughts upon re- 
searching and contemplating, always with this proviso, 
that he very much and deeply considered one thing at a 
time, — sc. a weeke or sometimes a fortnight. There was 
a report (and surely true) that in Parliament, not long 
after the King was settled, some of the Bishops made a 
motion, to have the good old gentleman burned for a 



xx LIFE OF HOBBES 

heretique ; which he hearing, feared that his papers might 
be searched by their order, and he told me that he had 
burned part of them. I have received word from his 
amanuensis and executor, that he remembers there were 
such verses, for he wrote them out, but knowes not what 
became of them, unless he presented them to Judge 
Vaughan, or burned them, as I did seeme to intimate. 
(But I understand since by W. Crooke, that he can re- 
trieve a great many of them.) 

From 1660, till the time he last went into Derbyshire, 
he spent most part of his time in London, at his Lord's, 
viz. at Little Salisbury-house, then Queen-street, lastly 
Newport-house ; following his contemplation and study. 
He contemplated and invented in the morning, but penned 
in the afternoon. 

In 1664, I sayd to him, "Methinkes 'tis pity, that you 
that have such a cleare reason and inventive head did 
never take into consideration, the learning of the lawes," 
and I endeavoured to persuade him to it ; but he answered 
that he was not like to have life enough left, to goe 
through with such a long and difficult task. I then pre- 
sented him, in order thereunto, and to draw him on, 
the Lord Ch. Bacon's Elements of the Lawe (a thin 4to.) 
which he was pleased to accept, and the next time I came 
to him he shewed me therein, two cleare paralogisms, 
which I am heartily sorry are now out of my remem- 
brance. 

I desponded that he should make any attempt (tenta- 
men) towards this designe. But afterwards, it seemes, 
in the country, he writt this treatise "De Legibus", fun- 
printed) of which Sir J. Vaughan, Ld. Chief Justice of 
the Common Pleas, had a transcript, and I doe affirm that 
he much admired it. 

1665. This yeare he told me that he was willing to doe 



LIFE OF HOBBES xxi 

some good to the towne where he was borne ; that his 
Majestic loved him well, and if I could find out some- 
thing in our country that was in his gift, he did believe 
he could beg it of his Majestie, and since he was bred a 
scholar, he thought it most proper to found a free-school 
there, which is wanting now; for before the Reformation. 
all monasteries had great schooles appendant to them. 
After inquiry I found out a piece of land in Braden-for- 
est, that was in his Majestie's possession, of about 25I. 
per annum value, which he hoped to have obtained of 
his Majestie, for a salary for a schoolmaster; but the 
Queen's priests, smelling out the designe, and being his 
enemies, prevented this public and charitable intention. 

A'o. D'ni. 1674, Mr. Anthony a Wood sett forth an 
elaborate worke of eleven yeares' study, intituled the 
"History and Antiquities of the University of Oxford/' 
wherein, in every respective Colledge and Hall, he men- 
tions the writers there educated, and what books they 
wrote. The Deane of Christ Church, having the ab- 
solute power of the presse there, perused every sheet be- 
fore it was sent to the presse, and after, and maugre the 
author, and to his great grief and sore displeasure, ex- 
punged and inserted, what he thought fitt. Among other 
authors, he made divers alterations in Mr. Wood's copie, 
in the account he gives of Mr. T. Hobbes of Malmes- 
bury's Life, in p. 376, 377, Lib. II. "Vir sane de quo 
( inter tot prosperae et adversae f amae qui de eo spargun- 
tur hominum sermones) hoc verissime pronuntiare fas 
est. animum ipsi obtigisse, uti omnis scientiae capacis- 
simum et infertum, ita divitiarum, saeculi, et invidiae 
negligentissimum ; erga cognatos et alios pium et bene- 
ficum. Inter eos quibuscum vixit, hilarem et apertum, et 
sermone libero. Apud exteros summa semper venera- 
tione habitum," &c. This and much more was quite 
dashed out of the author's copie by the sayd Deane. 



xxii LIFE OF HOBBES 

These additions and expunctions being made by the 
sayd Deane of Christ Church, without the advice, and 
quite contrary to the mind of the author, he told him, it 
was fitt Mr. Hobbes should know what he had done, be- 
cause that his name being- set to the booke, and all people 
knowing it to be his, he should be liable to an answer, and 
so consequently be in perpetual controversie. To this 
the Deane replied, "Yea in God's name, and great reason 
it was that he should know what he had done, and what 
he had done he would answer for," &c. 

Hereupon, in the beginning of 1674, the author ac- 
quaints J. W. Mr. Hobbes's correspondent, with all that 
had passed. J. W. acquaints Mr. Hobbes. Mr. Hobbes 
taking it ill was resolved to vindicate himself in an 
Epistle to the author, accordingly an epistle, dated Apr. 
20, 1674, was sent to the author in MS. with an intention 
to publish it, when the History of Oxford was to be pub- 
lished. Upon the receipt of Mr. Hobbes's Epistle by An- 
thony a Wood, he forthwith repaired, very honestly and 
without any guile, to the Deane of Christ Church, to 
communicate it to him, and to let him see that he would 
do nothing under-hand against him. The Deane read it 
over carelessly, and not without scorne, and when he 
had done, bid Mr. Wood tell Mr. Hobbes, "that he was 
an old man, had one foote in the grave, that he should 
mind his latter end, and not trouble the world any more 
with his papers," &c. or to that effect. 

In the meane time Mr. Hobbes meetes with the King 
in the Pall-mall, in St. James's parke; tells him how he 
had been served by the Deane of Christ Church, in a 
booke then in presse, intituled the "History and Antiqui- 
ties of the Universitie of Oxon," and withall desires his 
Majestie to be pleased to give him leave to vindicate 
himself. The King seeming to be troubled at the deal- 



LIFE OF HOBBES xxiii 

ing of the Deane, gave Mr. Hobbes leave, conditionally, 
that he touch nobody but him who had abused him, 
neither that he should reflect upon the Universitie. 

Mr. Hobbes understanding that this History would 
be published at the Common Act, at Oxon, about n July, 
the said year, 1674, prints his Epistle at London, and 
sends downe divers copies to Oxon, which being dis- 
persed at Coffee-houses and Stationers' shops, a copy 
forthwith came to the Deane's hands, who upon the read- 
ing of it fretted and fumed at it as a most famous libell, 
and soon after meeting with the author of the History 
chid him, telling him that he had corresponded with his 
enemie (Hobbes). The author replied, that surely he 
had forgot what he had donne, for he had communicated 
to him before what Mr. Hobbes had sayd and written ; 
whereupon the Deane recollecting himselfe, told him, 
that Hobbes should suddenly heare more of him, and that 
he would have the printer called to an account for print- 
ing such a notorious libell. 

1675. He left London, cum animo nunquam rever- 
tendi, and spent the remainder of his dayes in Derby- 
shire, with the E. of Devon, at Chatsworth and Hard- 
wyck, in contemplation and study. 

'Tis of custom, in the Lives of wise men to putt 
downe their sayings; now if trueth (uncommon) deliv- 
ered clearly and wittily goes for a saying, his common 
discourse was full of them, which for the most part were 
sharp and significant. 

In his youth he was unhealthy, and of an ill com- 
plexion, (yellowish). His Lord, who was a waster, sent 
him up and downe to borrow money, and to get gent, 
to be bound for him, being ashamed to speake himselfe ; 
he took cold, being wett in his feet, and trod both his 
shoes aside the same way. Notwithstanding he was 



xxiv LIFE OF HOBBES 

well-beloved, they loved his company for his pleasant 
facetiousness and suavity. From forty he grew healthier, 
and then he had a fresh ruddy complexion ; he was san- 
guineo-melancholicus, which the physiologers say is the 
most ingeniose complexion. He would say, that there 
might be good witts of all complexions ; but good na- 
tured, impossible. 

In his old age he was very bald, yet within dore he 
used to study, and sitt bare-headed, and sayd he never 
tooke cold in his head, but that the greatest trouble was 
to keepe off the flies from pitching on the baldness. His 
head was of a mallet forme, approved by the physiologers. 
His face not very great, ample forehead, yellowish 
reddish whiskers, which naturally turned up ; belowe he 
was shaved close, except a little tip under his lip ; not but 
that nature would have afforded him a venerable beard, 
but being mostly of a cheerful and pleasant humour, he 
affected not at all austerity and gravity, and to look se- 
vere. He considered gravity and heavinesse of counten- 
ance not so good marks of assurance of God's favour, as 
a cheerful, charitable, and upright behaviour, which are 
better signes of religion than the zealous maintaining of 
controverted doctrines. 

He had a good eie, and that of a hazel colour, which 
was full of life and spirit, even to his last ; when he was 
in discourse, there shone (as it were) a bright live coale 
within it. He had two kinds of looks ; when he laught, 
was witty, and in a merry humour, one could scarce see 
his eies : by and by when he was serious and earnest, he 
opened his eies round his eie-lids ; he had midling eies, 
not very big, nor very little. 

He was six foote high, and something better, and 
went indifferently erect, or rather, considering his great 
age, very erect. 



LIFE OF HOBBES xxv 

His sight and witt continued to his last. He had a 
curious sharp sight, as he had a sharp witt : which was 
also so sure and steady, that I have heard him often- 
times say, that in multiplying and dividing he never mis- 
took a figure, and so in other things. He thought much, 
and with excellent method and readiness, which made 
him seldom make a false step. He had read much, if one 
considers his long life, but his contemplation was much 
more than his reading. He was wont to say, that if he 
had read as much as other men, he should have continued 
still as ignorant as other men. 

He seldom used any physique. He was wont to say 
that he had rather have the advice, or take physique 
from an experienced old woman, that had been at many 
sick people's bed-sides, than from the most learned but 
unexperienced physitian. 

It is not consistent with an harmonicall soule to be a 
woman-hater, neither had he an abhorrence to good wine, 
but he was even in his youth (generally) temperate, both 
as to wine and women (et tamen hacc omnia mediocriter. 
Homo sum, humani nihil a me alienum puto.) I have 
heard him say that he has been drunke in his life, a hun- 
dred times, which considering his great age, did not 
amount to above once a year ; when he did drinke, he 
would drinke to excesse to have the benefit of vomiting, 
which he did easily, by which benefit neither his witt was 
disturbed nor his stomach oppressed ; but he never was, 
nor could endure to be, habitually a good fellow, i. e. to 
drink every day wine with company, which though not 
to drunkennesse, spoiles the braine. 

For his last thirty yeares, or more, his diet, &c. was 
very moderate, and regular : after sixty he dranke no 
wine, his stomach grew weak, and he did eate mostly 
fish, especially whitings ; for he sayd he digested fish 



xxvi LIFE OF HOBBES 

better than flesh. He rose about seaven, had his break- 
fast of bread and butter, and tooke his walke, meditating 
till ten, then he did putt downe the minutes of his 
thoughts. His dinner was provided for him exactly by 
eleaven, for he could not now stay till his Lord's houre, 
— sc. about two. After dinner he tooke a pipe of to- 
bacco, and then threw himself immediately on his bed, 
with his band off, and slept about halfe an houre ; in the 
afternoon he penned his morning thoughts. 

Besides his dayly walking, he did twice or thrice a 
yeare play at tennis, (at about seventy-five he did it) 
then went to bed and was well-rubbed. This he did be- 
lieve would make him live two or three yeares the longer. 

He gave to James Wheldon, his amanuensis, (who 
writes a delicate hand) his pension at Leicester, yearly, 
to wayte on him, and take care of him, which he did per- 
forme to him living and dying, with great respect and 
diligence: for which consideration he made him his exe- 
cutor. 

In cold weather he commonly wore a black velvet 
coate, lined with furre ; if not, some other coate so lined ; 
but all the yeare he wore a kind of bootes (buskins) of 
Spanish leather, laced or tyed along the sides with black 
ribbons. 

He had always bookes of prick-song lying on his 
table: — e. g. of H. Lawes, &c. songs, — which at night, 
when he was abed, and the dores made fast, and was 
sure nobody heard him, he sang aloud, (not that he had 
a good voice) but for his health's sake; he did believe it 
did his lunges good, and conduced much to prolong his 
life. 

He had the shaking palsy in his hands; which began 
in France before the year 1650, and has growne upon him 
by degrees ever since ; so that he has not been able to 



LIFE OF HOBBES xxvii 

write legibly since 1665 or 1666, as I find by some of his 
letters to me that he honoured me withall. 

His love to his kindred hath already been spoken of. 
He was very charitable (e suo modulo) to those that 
were true objects of his bounty. 

One time, I remember, goeing in the Strand, a poor 
and infirme old man begged his almes ; he beholding him 
with eies of pitty and compassion, putt his hand in his 
pocket, and gave him 6d. ; Sayd a divine (sc. Dr. Jasper 
Mayne) that stood by, "Would you have done this, if it 
had not been Christ's command ?" "Yea," sayd he ; 
"Why?" quoth the other; "Because," sayd he, "I was in 
paine to consider the miserable condition of the old man ; 
and now my almes, giving him some relief, doth also ease 
me." 

His work was attended with envy, which threw sev- 
erall aspersions and false reports on him ; for instance, 
one was, that he was afrayd to lye alone at night in his 
chamber. I have often heard him say, that he was not 
afrayd of sprights, but afrayd of being knockt on the 
head for five or ten pounds, which rogues might thinke 
he had in his chamber ; and severall other tales, as un- 
true. 

I have heard some positivelv affirme, that he had a 
yearly pension from the King of France ; possibly for 
having asserted such a monarchic as the King of France 
exercises ; but for what other grounds I know not ; un- 
less it be for that the present King of France is reputed 
an encourager of choice and able men in all faculties, 
who can attribute to his greatness. I never heard him 
speake of any such thing ; since his death I have inquired 
of his most intimate friends in Derbyshire, who wrote to 
me, they never heard of any such thing. Had it been so, 
[neither] he, nor they, ought to have been ashamed of it. 



xxviii LIFE OF HOBBES 

and it had been becoming the munificence of so great a 
prince to have donne it. 

For his being branded with atheisme, his writings 
and virtuous life testify against it. And that he was a 
Christian is clear, for he received the sacrament; and in 
his confession to Dr. Cosins, at . . .on his (as he 
thought) death-bed, declared that he liked the religion 
of the Church of England best of all other. 

He would have the worship of God performed with 
musique. 



Catalogue of his Learned Familiar Friends and Ac- 
quaintance, besides those already mentioned, that 
I remember him to have spoken of. 

Mr. Benjamin Jonson, Poet-Laureate, was his loving 
and familiar friend and acquaintance. 

. . . Ayton, Scoto-Britannus, a good poet and 
critique. He was needy related to his Lord's lady, and 
he desired Ben Jonson, and this gent, to give their judg- 
ment on his style of his translation of Thucydides. 

Sydney Godolphin, Esq. was his great friend. He 
left him, in his will, a legacy of an hundred pounds ; and 
Mr. Hobbes hath left him an eternal monument in lib. 
... of his Leviathan. 

Lucius Carey, Lord Falkland, was his great friend 
and admirer ; and so was Sir William Petty ; both which 
I had here enrolled amongst those friends I have heard 
him speake of, but Dr. Blackburne left them out (to mv 
admiration). I asked him why he had donne so? Fie 
answered, because they were both ignote to foreigners. 

Mr. Henry Gellibrand, Astronomy Professor at Gres- 
ham College. 

When he was at Florence, he contracted a friendship 
with the famous Galileo Galilei, whom he extremely ven- 



LIFE OF HOBBES xxix 

erated and magnified ; not only as he was a prodigious 
witt, but for his sweetness of nature and manners. They 
pretty well resembled one another. They were not much 
unlike in the countenance, as by their pictures may ap- 
pear. They were both cheerfull and melancholique- 
sanguine ; and had both a consimilitie of fate, to be hated 
and persecuted by the ecclesiastiques. 

Petrus Gassendus, S. Th. Doctor et Regius Professor 
Parisiis, whom he never mentions but with great honour 
and respect. Doctissimus, hiimanissimus. They laud 
each other entirely, as also the like love and friendship 
was betwixt him, and 

Marinus Mersennus, 

Mons'r Renatus Des Cartes, 

. . . Niceron, 

Samuel Sorbier, M. D. 

. Verdusius, to whom he dedicates his Dialogi. 

Sr. William Petty (of Ireland) Reg. Soc. Socius, a 
person of a great stupendous invention, and of as great 
prudence and humanity, had a high esteem of him. His 
acquaintance began at Paris, at which time Mr. H. 
studied Vesalius (Anatomy), and Sr. W. with him. He 
then assisted Mr. H. in drawing his schemes for his booke 
of optiques, for he had a very fine hand in those dayes 
for drawing, which draughts Mr. Hobbes did much com- 
mend. His facultie in this kind conciliated them the 
sooner to the familiarity of our common friend, Mr. S. 
Cowper, at whose house they often met. (He drew his 
picture twice, the first the K. has, the other is yet in the 
custody of his widowe ; but he gave it, indeed, to me, 
and I promised I would give it to the archives at 
Oxon.) but 1, like a fool, did not take possession of it, 
for something of the garment was not quite finished, and 
he dyed, I being then in the country. 



xxx LIFE OF HOBBES 

Mr. Abraham Cowley, the Poet, who hath bestowed 
on him an immortal Pindarique Ode, which is in his 
Poems. 

Wm. Harvey, Dr. of Physic and Chirurgery, inven- 
tor of the Circulation of the Blood, who left him in his 
will ten poundes, as his brother told me at his funerall. 
(Obiit A'o. 1657, aetat. 80, sepult, at Hempsted, in Es- 
sex.) 

When his "Leviathan" came out, he sent by Andr. 
Crooke, his stationer's man, a copie of it, well-bound, to 
Mr. John Selden, in Aedibus Carmeliticis; Mr. Selden 
told the servant, he did not know Mr. Hobbes, but had 
heard much of his worth, and that he should be very glad 
to be acquainted with him ; whereupon Mr. Hobbes 
wayted on him ; from which time there was a strickt 
friendship between them to his dyeing day. He left to 
Mr. Hobbes, by his will, a legacy of ten pounds. 

Sr. John Vaughan, Lord Chiefe Justice of the Com- 
mon Pleas, was his great acquaintance, to whom he made 
visits, three times or more in a weeke; out of terme in 
the morning; in terme-time, in the afternoon. 

Sr. Charles Scarborough, M. D. Physitian to his 
Royal Highnesse the Duke of Yorke, much loved his con- 
versation, and hath a very good and like picture of him 
(drawne about 1655), under which is this distich, by Sir 
C. Scarborough. 

Si quaeris de me, mores inquire, sed ille 
Qui quaerit de me, forsitan alter erit. 

Sr. Jonas Moore, (Mathematicus) Surveyor of his 
Majesty's Ordinance, who had a great veneration for 
Mr. Hobbes, and was wont much to lament he fell to the 
study of mathematiques so late. 

.Mr. Richard White, who writt "Hemispherium Dis- 
sectum." 



LIFE OF HOBBES xxxi 

Edward Lord Herbert, of Cherbury and Castle Island. 

Sir W. Davenant, Poet-Laureate after B. Jonson, and 
Generall of Ordinance to the Duke of Newcastle. 

William Chillingworth, D. D. He would commend 
this Doctor for a very great witt ; "but by G — ," said he, 
"he is like some lusty fighters, that will give a damnable 
back-blow now and then on their own party." 

George Aglionby, D. D. and Deane of Canterbury, 
was also his great acquaintance. He died at Oxford, 
1643, °f tne epidemique disease then raging. 

Jasper Mayne, D. D. Chaplain to Wm. Marquisse of 
Newcastle, was an old acquaintance of his. 

Mr. Francis Osburne, author of "Advice to a Son," 
and several other treatises, was his great acquaintance. 

John Pell, D. D. Mathematicus, quondam Professor 
. . . at Breda, who quotes him in his . . . contra 
Longomantanum de Quadratura Circuli, for one of his 
Jury (of 12). 

Mr. Henry Stubbes, physitian, whom he much es- 
teemed for his great learning and parts, but at the latter 
end he (Mr. H.) differed with him, for that he wrote 
against the Lord Chancellor Bacon, and the Royall So- 
cietie. 

Walter Charleton, M. D. Physitian to his Majestie, 
and one of the Colledge of Physitians in London, a high 
admirer of him. 

Mr. Samuel Butler, the author of Hudibras. 

In his . . . Dialogi he hath a noble elogie of Sr. 
Christopher Wren, then a young scholar in Oxon, but I 
thinke they were not acquainted. 

Mr. Hooke loved him, but was never but once in his 
company. 

Now as he had these ingeniose and learned friends, 
and many more, no question, that I know not, or now 



xxxii LIFE OF HOBBES 

escape my memory; so he had many enemies, (though 
undeserved) for he would not provoke, but if provoked, 
he was sharp and bitter, and as a prophet is not esteemed 
in his owne country, so he was more esteemed by for- 
eigners, than by his countrymen. 

He had very few bookes, I never sawe (nor Sir Wil- 
liam Petty) above halfe a dozen about him in his cham- 
ber. Homer and Virgil were commonly on his table ; 
sometimes Xenophon. or some probable Historic Greek 
Test, or so. 

I have heard him say, that Aristotle was the worst 
teacher that ever was, the worst politician and ethick : a 
country fellow that could live in the world, as good ; but 
his Rhetorique and his Discourse of Animals was rare. 

When Mr. Hobbes was sick in France, the divines 
came to him, and tormented him (both Cathol. Ch. of 
England, and Geneva), sayd he to them, "Let me alone, 
or else I will detect all your cheates from Aaron to your- 
selves." I thinke I have heard him speake something to 
this purpose. 

Mr. Edm. Waller sayd to me, when I desired him to 
write some verses in praise of him, that he was afrayd of 
the churchmen ; he quoted Horace — "Incedo per ignes 
Suppositos cineri doloso." — That which was chiefly to be 
taken notice of in his Elogie was, that he being, but one, 
and a private person, pulled down all the churches, dis- 
pelled the mists of ignorance, and layd open their priest- 
craft. 

In May, 1688, his "Ecclesiastica Historia Carmine 
Elegiaco conscripta'', was printed at Augusta Trinoban- 
tum, sc. London. The preface was writt by Mr. Thomas 
Rymer, of Gray's Inn; but a»Mut).wq 

I remember he was wont to say, that "old men were 
drowned inwardly, by their own moysture; — e.g. first 
the feet swell ; then the legges ; then belly," &c. 



LIFE OF HOBBES xxxiii 

He dyed worth neer ioool. which (considering his 
charity) was more than I expected. 

To conclude, he had a high esteeme for the Royal 
Societie, having sayd "that Natural Philosophy was re- 
moved from the Universities to Gresham Colledge" 
(meaning the Royal Societie that meets there), and the 
Royal Societie (generally) had the like for him : and he 
would long since have been ascribed a member there, but 
for the sake of one or two persons, whom he tooke to be 
his enemies. In their meeting at Gresham Colledge 
is his picture, drawne by the life, 1663, by a good hand, 
which they much esteeme, and severall copies have been 
taken of it. 



The following account of his death is taken from a 
letter of James Wheldon to John Aubrey printed in con- 
nection with Aubrey's Life of Hobbes. 

"He fell sick about the middle of October last. His 
disease was the stranguary, and the physitians judged it 
incurable by reason of his great age and naturall decay. 
About the 20th of November, my Lord being to remove 
from Chatsworth to Hardwick, Mr. Hobbes would not 
be left behind ; and therefore with a feather-bed laid into 
the coach, upon which he lay warme clad, he was con- 
veyed safely, and was in appearance as well after that 
little journey as before it. But seven or eight days 
after, his whole right side was taken with the dead palsy, 
and at the same time he was made speechlesse. He lived 
after this seven days, taking very little nourishment, slept 
well, and by intervalls endeavoured to speak, but could 
not. In the whole time of his sicknesse he was free from 
fever. He seemed therefore to dye rather for want of the 
fuell of life, (which was spent in him) and meer weak- 
nesse and decay, than by the power of his disease, which 



xxxiv LIFE OF HOBBES 

was thought to be only an effect of his age and weak- 
nesse. He was born the 5th of Aprill, in the yeare 1588, 
and died the 4th of December, 1679. He was put into 
a woollen shroud and coffin, which was covered with a 
white sheet, and upon that a black herse cloth, and so 
carryed upon men's shoulders, a little mile to the church. 
The company, consisting of the family and neighbours 
that came to his funerall, and attended him to his grave, 
were very handsomely entertained with wine, burned and 
raw, cake, biscuit, &c. He was buried in the parish 
church of Hault Hucknall, close adjoining to the raile of 
the monument of the grand-mother of the present Earle 
of Devonshire, with the service of the Church of Eng- 
land by the minister of the parish. It is intended to 
cover his grave with a stone of black marble as soon as 
it can be got ready, with a plain inscription of his name, 
the place of his birth, and the time of that and of his 
death." 



LIST OF THE WRITINGS 

OF 
Thomas Hobbes 

1628 The History of the Grecian War written by Thucydides. 
London. 

1636 De Mirabilibus Pecci. London. 

1641 Objectiones in Cartesii de Prima Philosophia Meditationes. 
Paris, about 1641. 

1644 Tractatus Opticus. Paris. 

1647 Elementa Philosophica de Cive. Amsterdam. A few- 
copies were privately printed in Paris, 1642, with the 
title, Elementorum Philosophiae Sectio Tertia, De Cive. 
In English; Philosophical Rudiments concerning Gov- 
ernment and Society. London, 165 1. 

1650 Human Nature. London. 

De Corpore Politico, or Elements of Law. London. 
Answer to Davenant's Preface before Gondibert. Paris. 

165 1 Leviathan. London. 

1654 Of Liberty and Necessity. London. 

1655 Elementa Philosophiae Sectio Prima de Corpore. London. 

Published in English, London, 1656. 

1656 Six Lessons to the Professors of the Mathematics. London. 
Questions concerning Liberty, Necessity, and Chance. 

London. 

1657 De Homine, sive Elementorum Philosophise Sectio Secun- 

da. London. 
Marks of the Absurd Geometry &c. of John Wallis. London. 

1660 Examinatio et Emendatio Mathematicae Hodiernae. Lon- 

don. 

1661 Dialogus Physicus, sive de Natura Aeris. London. 
De Duplicatione Cubi. London. 

1662 Problemata Physica. London. 

Considerations on the Reputation &c. of Thomas Hobbes. 
London. 



xxxvi LIST OF THE WRITINGS OF HOBBES 

1666 De Principiis et Ratiocinatione Geometrarum. London. 

1668 Appendix ad Leviathan. Amsterdam. 

1669 Quadratum Circuli, Cubatio Sphaerae, duplicatio Cubi. 

London. 
Letter to the Right Honourable "Edward Howard. 

167 1 Rosetum Geometricum. London. 

Three Papers Presented to the Royal Society. London. 

1672 Principia et Problemata aliquot Geometrica. London. 
Lux Mathematica. London. 

1673 The Travels of Ulysses. London. 

1674 Epistola ad Anthony a Wood. London. 

1675 The Iliads and Odysses of Homer. London. 

1676 Letter to the Duke of Newcastle, on the Controversy about 

Liberty and Necessity. London. 

1678 Decameron Physiologicum. London. 

1679 T. Hobbes Malmesburiensis Vita Carmine Expressa. Lon- 

don. 

PUBLISHED POSTHUMOUSLY 

1680 An Historical Narration concerning Heresy. 
Behemoth: the History of the Causes of the Civil Wars of 

England. London. An edition from a defective manu- 
script was published without the authority of Hobbes 
in 1679 shortly before his death. 

1681 T. Hobbes Malmesburiensis Vita. London. 
The Whole Art of Rhetoric. London. 

The Art of Rhetoric. London. 
The Art of Sophistry. London. 

A Dialogue between a Philosopher and a Student of the 
Common Laws of England. London. 

1682 Answer to Bishop Bramhall's Book called "The Catching of 

Leviathan." London. 
Seven Philosophical Problems. London. 
1688 Historia Ecclesiastica. London. 
A few letters have been published by Molesworth in Vol. V of 

the Latin Works and Vol. VII of the English Works. 



SELECTIONS FROM 



ELEMENTS OF PHILOSOPHY. 



THE FIRST SECTION 



CONCERNING BODY. 



PART FIRST. 



ELEMENTS OF PHILOSOPHY 



PART FIRST 

COMPUTATION OR LOGIC 



CHAPTER I. 

OF PHILOSOPHY. 

i. The Introduction. — 2. The Definition of Philosophy explained. 
— 3. Ratiocination of the Mind. — 4. Properties, what they are. 
— 5. How Properties are known by Generation, and contrarily. 
— 6. The Scope of Philosophy.— 7. The Utility of it.— 8. The 
Subject. — 9. The Parts of it. — 10. The Epilogue. 

Philosophy seems to me to be amongst men now, in 
the same manner as corn and wine are said to have been 
in the world in ancient time. For from the beginning there 
were vines and ears of corn growing here and there in 
the fields; but no care was taken for the planting and 
sowing of them. Men lived therefore upon acorns ; or if 
any were so bold as to venture upon the eating of those 
unknown and doubtful fruits, they did it with danger of 
their health. In like manner, every man brought Philos- 
ophy, that is, Natural Reason, into the world with him ; 
for all men can reason to some degree, and concerning 
some things : but where there is need of a long series of 
reasons, there most men wander out of the way, and fall 



2 ELEMENTS OF PHILOSOPHY 

into error for want of method, as it were for want of 
sowing and planting, that is, of improving their reason. 
And from hence it comes to pass, that they who content 
themselves with daily experience, which may be likened 
to feeding upon acorns, and either reject, or not much 
regard philosophy, are commonly esteemed, and are, in- 
deed, men of sounder judgment than those who, from 
opinions, though not vulgar, yet full of uncertainty, and 
carelessly received, do nothing but dispute and wrangle, 
like men that are not well in their wits. I confess, in- 
deed, that that part of philosophy by which magnitudes 
and figures are computed, is highly improved. But be- 
cause I have not observed the like advancement in the 
other parts of it, my purpose is, as far forth as I am 
able, to lay open the few and first Elements of Philos- 
ophy in general, as so many seeds from which pure and 
true Philosophy may hereafter spring up by little and 
little. 

I am not ignorant how hard a thing it is to weed out 
of men's minds such inveterate opinions as have taken 
root there, and been confirmed in them by the author- 
ity of most eloquent writers; especially seeing true (that 
is, accurate) Philosophy professedly rejects not only the 
paint and false colours of language, but even the very 
ornaments and graces of the same ; and the first grounds 
of all science are not only not beautiful, but poor, arid, 
and, in appearance, deformed. Nevertheless, there being 
certainly some men, though but few, who are delighted 
with truth and strength of reason in all things, I thought 
I might do well to take this pains for the sake even of 
those few. I proceed therefore to the matter, and take 
my beginning from the very definition of philosophy, 
which is this. 

2. Philosophy is such knowledge of effects or op- 



OF PHILOSOPHY 3 

pearances. as we acquire by true ratiocination from the 
knozvledge we have first of their causes or generation : 
And again, of such causes or generations as may be from 
knowing first their effects. 1 

For the better understanding of which definition, we 
must consider, first, that although Sense and Memory 
of things, which are common to man and all living crea- 
tures, be knowledge, yet because they are given us im- 
mediately by nature, and not gotten by ratiocination, 
they are not philosophy. 

Secondly, seeing Experience is nothing but memory; 
and Prudence, or prospect into the future time, nothing 
but expectation of such things as we have already had 
experience of, Prudence also is not to be esteemed phil- 
osophy. 2 



1 Compare below Ch. VI, Sec. I, also the following from Ch. 
XXV of the Elements of Philosophy (M. I. 387-389). "There 
are, therefore, two methods of philosophy; one, from the gen- 
eration of things to their possible effects; and the other, from 
their effects or appearances to some possible generation of the 
same. In the former of these the truth of the first principles of 
our ratiocination, namely definitions, is made and constituted by 
ourselves, whilst we consent and agree about the appellations of 
things. * * * The other part * * * is the finding out by 
the appearances or effects of nature, which we know by sense, 
some ways and means by which they may be, I do not say they 
are, generated. The principles, therefore, upon which [this part] 
depends, are not such as we ourselves make and pronounce in 
general terms, as definitions ; tut such, as being placed in the 
things themselves by the Author of Nature, are by us observed 
in them ; and we make use of them in single and particular, not 
universal propositions. Nor do they impose upon us any necessity 
of constituting theorems ; their use being only, though not without 
such general propositions as have been already demonstrated, to 
show us the possibility of some production or generation. Seeing, 
therefore, the science, which is here taught, hath its principles 
in the appearances of nature, and endeth in the attaining of some 
knowledge of natural causes, I have given to this part the 
title of Physics, or the Phenomena of Nature. Now such things 
ts appear, or are shown to us by nature, we call phenomena or 
appearances." Compare also the Leviathan, Ch. IX. 

* Compare the following from the Leviathan, (M. Ill, 664). 
"By which definition [of philosophy] it is evident, that we are 



4 ELEMENTS OF PHILOSOPHY 

By ratiocination, I mean computation. Now to 
compute, is either to collect the sum of many things that 
are added together, or to know what remains when one 
diing is taken out of another. Ratiocination, therefore, 
is the same with addition and substraction; and if any 
man add multiplication and division, I will not be against 
it, seeing multiplication is nothing but addition of equals 
one to another, and division nothing but a substraction of 
equals one from another, as often as is possible. So that 
all ratiocination is comprehended in these two operations 
of the mind, addition and substraction. 

3. But how by the ratiocination of our mind, we 
add and substract in our silent thoughts, without the use 
of words, it will be necessary for me to make intelligible 
by an example or two. If therefore a man see something 
afar off and obscurely, although no appellation haa yet 
been given to anything, he will, notwithstanding, have 
the same idea of that thing for which now, by impos- 
ing a name on it, we call it body. Again, when, by com- 
ing nearer, he sees the same thing thus and thus, now in 
one place and now in another, he will have a new idea 
thereof, namely, that for which we mow call such a thing 
animated. Thirdly, when standing nearer, he perceives the 



not to account as any part thereof, that original knowledge called 
experience, in which consisteth prudence : because it is not at- 
tained by reasoning, but found as well in brute beasts, as in 
man ; and is but a memory of successions of events in times past, 
wherein the omission of every little circumstance altering the 
effect, frustrateth the expectation of the most prudent: whereas 
nothing is produced by reasoning aright, but general, eternal, and 
immutable truth. Nor are we therefore to give that name^to any 
false conclusions : for he that reasoneth aright in words he un- 
derstandeth, can never conclude an error: Nor to that which 
any man knows by supernatural revelation ; because it is not ac- 
quired by reasoning : Nor that which is gotten by reasoning from 
the authority of books ; because it is not by reasoning from the 
cause to the effect, nor from the effect to the cause; and is not 
knowledge but faith." 



OF PHILOSOPHY 5 

figure, hears the voice, and sees other things which are 
signs of a rational mind, he has a third idea, though it 
have yet no appellation, namely, that for which we now 
call anything rational. Lastly, when, by looking fully 
and distinctly upon it, he conceives all that he has seen as 
one thing, the idea he has now is compounded of his 
former ideas, which are put together in the mind in the 
same order in which these three single names, body, an- 
imated, rational, are in speech compounded into this one 
name, body-animated-rational, or man. In like manner, 
of the several conceptions of four sides, equality of sides, 
and right angles, is compounded the conception of a 
square. For the mind may conceive a figure of four sides 
without any conception of their equality, and of that 
equality without conceiving a right angle; and may join 
together all these single conceptions into one conception 
or one idea of a square. And thus we see how the con- 
ceptions of the mind are compounded. Again, whoso- 
ever sees a man standing near him, conceives the whole 
idea of that man ; and if, as he goes away, he follow him 
with his eyes only, he will lose the idea of those things 
Which were signs of his being rational, whilst, neverthe- 
less, the idea of a body-animated remains still before his 
eyes, so that the idea of rational is substracted from the 
whole idea of man, that is to say, of body-animated- 
rational, and there remains that of body-animated; and 
a while after, at a greater distance, the idea of animated 
will be lost, and that of body only will remain; so that 
at last, when nothing at all can be seen, the whole idea 
will winish out of sight. By which examples, I think, 
it is manifest enough what is the internal ratiocination of 
the mind without words. 

We must not therefore think that computation, tliat 
is, ratiocination, has place only in numbers, as if man 



6 ELEMENTS OF PHILOSOPHY 

were distinguished from other living creatures (which 
is said to have beer the opinion of Pythagoras) by noth- 
ing but the faculty of numbering; for magnitude, body, 
motion, time, degrees of quality, action, conception, pro- 
portion, speech and names (in which all the kinds of phil- 
osophy consist) are capable of addition and substraction. 
Now such things as we add or substract, that is, which 
we put into an account, we are said to consider, in Greek 
AortZe<r&at t in which language also aoMoyfeo^ai signifies 
to compute, reason, or reckon} 

4. But effects and the appearances of things to sense, 
are faculties or powers of bodies, which make us distin- 
guish them from one another; that is to say, conceive 
one body to be equal or unequal, like or unlike to another 
body; as in the example above, when by coming near 
enough to any body, we perceive the motion and going 
of the same, we distinguish it thereby from a tree, a col- 
umn, and other fixed bodies ; and so that motion or going 
is the property thereof, as being proper to living crea- 
tures, and a faculty by which they make us distinguish 
them from other bodies. 

5. How the knowledge of any effect may be gotten 
from the knowledge of the generation thereof, may easily 
be understood by the example of a circle : for if there be 
set before us a plain figure, having, as near as may be, 
the figure of a circle, we cannot possibly perceive by 
sense whether it be a true circle or no ; than which, never- 
theless, nothing is more easy to be known to him that 
knows first the generation of the propounded figure. For 
let it be known that the figure was made by the circum- 
duction of a body whereof one end remained unmoved. 



3 Compare below Ch. IV, and the Leviathan, Ch. V and VII, 
and notes on the latter. 



OF PHILOSOPHY 7 

and we may reason thus ; a body carried about, retaining 
always the same length, applies itself first to one radius, 
then to another, to a third, a fourth, and successively to 
all ; and, therefore, the same length, from the same point, 
toucheth the circumference in every part thereof, which is 
as much as to say, as all the radii are equal. We know, 
therefore, that from such generation proceeds a figure, 
from whose one middle point all the extreme points are 
reached unto by equal radii. And in like manner, by 
knowing first what figure is set before us, we may come 
by ratiocination to some generation of the same, though 
perhaps not that by which it was made, yet that by which 
it might have been made ; for he that knows that a circle 
has the property above declared, will easily know whether 
a body carried about, as is said, will generate a circle 
or no. 

6. The end or scope of philosophy is, that we may 
make use to our benefit of effects formerly seen ; or that, 
by application of bodies to one another, we may produce 
the like effects of those we conceive in our mind, as far 
forth as matter, strength, and industry, will permit, for 
the commodity of human life. For the inward glory and 
triumph of mind that a man may have for the mastering 
of some difficult and doubtful matter, or for the discov- 
ery of some hidden truth, is not worth so much pains as 
the study of Philosophy requires ; nor need any man care 
much to teach another what he knows himself, if he think 
that will be the only benefit of his labour. The end of 
knowledge is power; and the use of theorems (which, 
among geometricians, serve for the finding out of prop- 
erties) is for the construction of problems; and, lastly, 
the scope of all speculation is the performing of some 
action, or thing to be done. 

7. But what the utility of philosophy is, especially 



8 ELEMENTS OF PHILOSOPHY 

of natural philosophy and geometry, will be best under- 
stood by reckoning up the chief commodities of which 
mankind is capable, and by comparing the manner of life 
of such as enjoy them, with that of others which want 
the same. Now, the greatest commodities of mankind 
are the arts ; namely, of measuring matter and motion ; 
of moving ponderous bodies ; of architecture ; of naviga- 
tion; of making instruments for all uses; of calculating 
the celestial motions, the aspects of the stars, and the 
parts of time ; of geography, &c. By which sciences, how 
great benefits men receive is more easily understood than 
expressed. These benefits are enjoyed by almost all the 
people of Europe, by most of those of Asia, and by some 
of Africa : but the Americans, and they that live near the 
Poles, do totally want them. But why? Have they 
sharper wits than these? Have not all men one kind of 
soul, and the same faculties of mind ? What, then, makes 
this difference, except philosophy? Philosophy, there- 
fore, is the cause of all these benefits. But the utility of 
moral and civil philosophy is to be estimated, not so much 
by the commodities we have by knowing these sciences, 
as by the calamities we receive from not knowing them. 
Now, all such calamities as may be avoided by human in- 
dustry, arise from war, but chiefly from civil war; for 
from this proceed slaughter, solitude, and the want of 
all things. But the cause of war is not that men are will- 
ing to have it; for the will has nothing for object but 
good, at least that which seemeth good. Nor is it from 
this, that men know not that the effects of war are evil ; 
for who is there that thinks not poverty and loss of life to 
be great evils? The cause, therefore, of civil war is, that 
men know not the causes neither of war nor peace, there 
being but few in the world that have learned those duties 
which unite and keep men in peace, that is to say, that 



OF PHILOSOPHY g 

have learned the rules of civil life sufficiently. Now, the 
knowledge of these rules is moral philosophy. But why 
have they not learned them, unless for this reason, that 
none hitherto have taught them in a clear and exact 
method? For what shall we say? Could the ancient 
masters of Greece, Egypt, Rome, and others, persuade 
the unskilful multitude to their innumerable opinions 
concerning the nature of their gods, which they them- 
selves knew not whether they were true or false, and 
which were indeed manifestly false and absurd ; and 
could they not persuade the same multitude to civil duty, 
if they themselves had understood it? Or shall those few 
writings of geometricians which are extant, be thought 
sufficient for the taking away of all controversy in the 
matters they treat of, and shall those innumerable and 
huge volumes of ethics be thought unsufficient, if what 
they teach had been certain and well demonstrated? 
What, then, can be imagined to be the cause that the 
writings of those men have increased science, and the 
writings of these have increased nothing but words, sav- 
ing that the former were written by men that 
knew, and the latter by such as knew not, the 
doctrine they taught only for ostentation of their 
wit and eloquence? Nevertheless, I deny not but the 
reading of some such books is very delightful ; for they 
are most eloquently written, and contain many clear, 
wholesome and choice sentences, which yet are not uni- 
versally true, though by them universally pronounced. 
From whence it comes to pass, that the circumstances 
of times, places, and persons being changed, they are 
no less frequently made use of to confirm wicked men 
in their purposes, than to make them understand the pre- 
cepts of civil duties. Now that which is chiefly wanting 
in them, is a true and certain rule of our actions, by which 



io ELEMENTS OF PHILOSOPHY 

we might know whether that we undertake be just or un- 
just. For it is to no purpose to be bidden in every thing 
to do right, before there be a certain rule and measure 
of right established, which no man hitherto hath estab- 
lished. Seeing, therefore, from the not knowing of civil 
duties, that is, from the want of moral science, proceed 
civil wars, and the greatest calamities of mankind, we 
may very well attribute to such science the production 
of the contrary commodities. And thus much is suffi- 
cient, to say nothing of the praises and other contentment 
proceeding from philosophy, to let you see the utility of 
the same in every kind thereof. 

8. The subject of Philosophy, or the matter it treats 
of, is every body of which we can conceive any gener- 
ation, and which we may, by any consideration thereof, 
compare with other bodies, or which is capable of compo- 
sition and resolution ; that is to say, every body of whose 
generation or properties we can have any knowledge. 
And this may be deduced from the definition of philos- 
ophy, whose profession it is to search out the proper- 
ties of bodies from their generation, or their genera- 
tion from their properties ; and, therefore, where there 
is no generation or property, there is no philosophy. 
Therefore it excludes Theology, I mean the doctrine of 
God, eternal, ingenerable, incomprehensible, and in 
whom there is nothing neither to divide nor compound, 
nor any generation to be conceived. 

It excludes the doctrine of angels, and all such things 
as are thought to be neither bodies nor properties of 
bodies; there being in them no place neither for com- 
position nor division, nor any capacity of more and less, 
that is to say, no place for ratiocination. 

It excludes history, as well natural as political, 
though most useful (nay necessary) to philosophy; be- 



OF PHILOSOPHY W 

cause such knowledge is but experience, or authority, 
and not ratiocination. 

It excludes all such knowledge as is acquired by 
Divine inspiration, or revelation, as not derived to us by 
reason, but by Divine grace in an instant, and, as it were, 
by some sense supernatural. 

It excludes not only all doctrines which are false, 
but such also as are not well-grounded; for whatsoever 
we know by right ratiocination, can neither be false nor 
doubtful; and, therefore, astrology, as it is now held 
forth, and all such divinations rather than sciences, are 
excluded. 

Lastly, the doctrine of God's worship is excluded 
from philosophy, as being not to be known by natural 
reason, but by the authority of the Church ; and as being 
the object of faith, and not of knowledge. 

9. The principal parts of philosophy are two. For 
two chief kinds of bodies, and very different from one 
another, offer themselves to such as search after their 
generation and properties; one whereof being the work 
of nature, is called a natural body, the other is called a 
commonwealth, and is made by the wills and agreement 
of men. And from these spring the two parts of phil- 
osophy, called natural and civil. But seeing that, for the 
knowledge of the properties of a commonwealth, it is 
necessary first to know the dispositions, affections, and 
manners of men, civil philosophy is again commonly divid- 
ed into two parts, whereof one, which treats of men's dis- 
positions and manners, is called ethics; and the other, 
which takes cognizance of their civil duties, is called poli- 
tics, or simply civil philosophy. In the first place, therefore 
(after I have set down such premises as appertain to the 
nature of philosophy in general), I will discourse of 
bodies natural; in the second, of the dispositions and man- 



u ELEMENTS OF PHILOSOPHY 

ners of men; and in the third, of the civil duties of sub- 
jects. 4 

10. To conclude ; seeing there may be many who will 
not like this my definition of philosophy, and will say, that, 
from the liberty which a man may take of so defining as 
seems best to himself, he may conclude any thing from 
any thing (though I think it no hard matter to demon- 
strate that this definition of mine agrees with the sense of 
all men) ; yet, lest in this point there should be any cause 
of dispute betwixt me and them, I here undertake no 
more than to deliver the elements of that science by which 
the effects of anything may be found out from the known 
generation of the same, or contrarily, the generation 
from the effects ; to the end that they who search after 
other philosophy, may be admonished to seek it from 
other principles. 

4 Compare the Leviathan, Ch. IX, and the following from the 
Philosophical Rudiments, "Preface to the Reader," (M. II, xix- 
xx). "I was studying philosophy for my mind sake, and I 
had gathered together its first elements in all kinds; and having 
digested them into three sections by degrees, I thought to have 
written them, so as in the first I would have treated of body and 
its general properties ; in the second of man and his special fac- 
ulties and affections ; in the third, of civil government and the 
duties of subjects. Wherefore the first section would have con- 
tained the first philosophy, and certain elements of physic; in 
it we would have considered the reasons of time, place, cause, 
power, relation, proportion, quantity, figure, and motion. In the 
second, we would have been conversant about imagination, mem- 
ory, intellect, ratiocination, appetite, will, good and evil, honest 
and dishonest, and the like. What this last section handles, I 
have now already showed you. Whilst I contrive, order, pen- 
sively and slowly compose these matters; (for I only do reason, 
I dispute not) ; it so happened in the interim, that my country, 
some few years before the civil wars did rage, was boiling hot 
with questions concerning the rights of dominion and the obedi- 
ence due from subjects, the true forerunners of an approaching 
war; and was the cause which, all those other matters deferred, 
ripened and plucked from me this third part. Therefore it happens, 
that what was last in order, is yet come forth first in time." 
Compare also below Ch. VI, Sec. 6-7. Note that the Latin titles 
of Hobbes' chief philosophical writings are De Corpore, De 
Ho mine, and De Cive. 



CHAPTER II. 

OF NAMES. 

i. The necessity of sensible Moniments or Marks for the help 
of Memory: a Mark defined. — 2. The necessity of Marks for 
the signification of the cenceptions of the Mind. — 3. Names 
supply both those necessities. — 4. The Definition of a Name. — 
s. Names are Signs not of Things, but of our Cogitations. — 
6. What it is we give Names to. — [7. Names Positive and 
Negative. — 8. Contradictory Names. — 9. A Common Name. — 
10. Names of the First and Second Intention. — 11. Universal, 
Particular, Individual, and Indefinite Names. — 12. Names Uni- 
vocal and Equivocal. — 13. Absolute and Relative Names. — 
14. Simple and Compounded Names. — 15. A Predicament de- 
scribed. — 16. Some things to be noted concerning Predica- 
ments.] 

I. How unconstant and fading men's thoughts are, and 
how much the recovery of them depends upon chance, 
there is none but knows by infallible experience in him- 
self. For no man is able to remember quantities without 
sensible and present measures, nor colors without sensi- 
ble and present patterns, nor number without the names 
of numbers disposed in order and learned by heart. So 
that whatsoever a man has put together in his mind by 
ratiocination without such helps, will presently slip from 
him, and not be revocable but by beginning his ratiocin- 
ation anew. From which it follows, that, for the acquir- 
ing of philosophy, some sensible moniments are necessary, 
by which our past thoughts may be not only reduced, but 
also registered every one in its own order. These moni- 
ments I call marks, namely, sensible things taken at 
pleasure, that, by the sense of them, such thoughts may 
be recalled to cur mind as are like those thoughts for 
which we took them. 



M ELEMENTS OF PHILOSOPHY 

2. Again, though some one man, of how excellent a 
wit soever, should spend all his time partly in reasoning, 
and partly in inventing marks for the help of his mem- 
ory, and advancing himself in learning; who sees not that 
the benefit he reaps to himself will not be much, and to 
others none at all ? For unless he communicate his notes 
with others, iiis science will perish with him. But if the 
same notes be made common to many, and so one man's 
inventions be taught to others, sciences will thereby be in- 
creased to the general good of mankind. It is therefore 
necessary, for the acquiring of philosophy, that there be 
certain signs, by which what one man finds out may be 
manifested and made known to others. Now, those 
things we call signs are the antecedents of their conse- 
quents, and the consequents of their antecedents, as often 
as we observe them to go before or follow after in 
the same manner. For example, a thick cloud is a sign 
of rain to follow, and rain a sign that a cloud has gone 
before, for this reason only, that we seldom see clouds 
without the consequence of rain, nor rain at any time but 
when a cloud has gone before. And of signs, some are 
natural, whereof I have already given an example, others 
are arbitrary, namely, those we make choice of at our own 
pleasure, as a bush hung up, signifies that wine is to be 
sold there; a stone set in the ground signifies the bound 
of a field ; and words so and so connected, signify the cog- 
itations and motions of our mind. 1 The difference, 



1 Compare the following from Philosophical Rudiments. (M. 
II, 219-220). "There are two kinds of signs; the one natural; 
the other done upon agreement, or by express or tacit composi- 
tion. Now because in every language the use of words and 
names come by appointment, it may also by appointment be al- 
tered ; for that which depends on and derives its force from the 
will_ of men, can by the will of the same men agreeing be changed 
again or abolished. Such names therefore as are attributed to 



OF NAMES IS 

therefore, betwixt marks and signs is this, that we make 
those for our own use, but these for the use of others. 

3. Words so connected as that they become signs of 
our thoughts, are called speech, of which every part is a 
name. But seeing (as is said) both marks and 
signs are necessary for the acquiring of philosophy, 
(marks by which we may remember our own thoughts, 
and signs by which we may make our thoughts known to 
others), names do both these offices; but they serve for 
marks before they be used as signs. For though a man 
were alone in the world, they would be useful to him in 
helping him to remember; but to teach others, (unless 
there were some others to be taught) of no use at all. 
Again, names, though standing singly by themselves, are 
marks, because they serve to recall our own thoughts to 
mind ; but they cannot be signs, otherwise than by being 



God by the appointment of men, can by the same appointment 
be taken away. Now what can be done by the appointment of 
men, that the city may do. The city therefore by right, that is 
to say, they who have the power of the whole city, shall judge 
what names or appellations are more, what less honorable for 
God ; that is to say, what doctrines are to be held and professed 
concerning the nature of God and his operations. Now actions 
do signify not by men's appointment, but naturally; even as the 
effects are signs of their causes. Whereof some are always 
signs of scorn to them before whom they are committed; as 
those whereby the body's uncleanness is discovered, and what- 
soever men are ashamed to do before those whom they re- 
spect. Others are always signs of honor, as to draw near and 
discourse decently and humbly, to give way or to yield in any 
matter of private benefit. In these actions the city can alter 
nothing. But there are infinite others, which, as much as belongs 
to honour or reproach, are indifferent. Now these, by the insti- 
tution of the city, may both be made signs of honour, and being 
made so, do in very deed become so. From whence we may 
understand, that we must obey the city in whatsoever it shall 
command to be used for a sign of honouring God, that is to say, 
for worship; provided it can be instituted for a sign of honour; 
because that is a sign of honour, which by the city's command is 
used for such." 



T6 elements of philosophy 

disposed and ordered in speech as parts of the same. For 
example, a man may begin with a word, whereby the 
hearer may frame an idea of something in his mind, 
which, nevertheless, he cannot conceive to be the idea 
which was in the mind of him that spake, but that he 
would say something which began with that word, though 
perhaps not as by itself, but as part of another word. 
So that the nature of a name consists principally in this, 
that it is a mark taken for memory's sake ; but it serves 
also by accident to signify and make known to others 
what we remember ourselves, and, therefore, I will define 
it thus : 

4. A name is a word taken at pleasure to serve for 
a mark, which may raise in our mind a thought like to 
some thought we had before, and which being pronounced 
to others, may be to them a sign of what thought the 
speaker had, or had not before in his mind. And it is for 
brevity's sake that I suppose the original of names to be 
arbitrary, judging it a thing that may be assumed as un- 
questionable. For considering that new names are daily 
made, and old ones laid aside; that diverse nations use 
different names, and how impossible it is either to ob- 
serve similitude, or make any comparison betwixt a name 
and a thing, how can any man imagine that the names 
of things were imposed from their natures ? For though 
some names of living creatures and other things, which 
our first parents used, were taught by God himself; yet 
they were by him arbitrarily imposed, and afterwards, 
both at the Tower of Babel, and since, in process of 
time, growing everywhere out of use, are quite forgotten, 
and in their room have succeeded others, invented and 
received by men at pleasure. Moreover, whatsoever the 
common use of words be, yet philosophers, who were to 
teach their knowledge to others, had always the liberty, 



OF NAMES 



17 



and sometimes they both had and will have a necessity, 
of taking to themselves such names as they please for the 
signifying of their meaning, if they would have it under- 
stood. Nor had mathematicians need to ask leave of any 
but themselves to name the figures they invented, para- 
bolas, hyperboles, cissoeides, quadratices, &c. or to call 
one magnitude A, another B. 

5. But seeing names ordered in speech (as is de- 
fined) are signs of our conceptions, it is manifest they are 
not signs of the things themselves ; for that the sound of 
this word stone should be the sign of a stone, cannot be 
understood in any sense but this, that he that hears it 
collects that he that pronounces it thinks of a stone. And, 
therefore, that disputation, whether names signify the 
matter or form, or something compounded of both, and 
other like subtleties of the metaphysics, is kept up by err- 
ing men, and such as understand not the words they dis- 
pute about. 

6. Nor, indeed, is it at all necessary that every name 
should be the name of something. For as these, a man, a 
tree, 2. stone, are the names of the things themselves, so 
the images of a man, of a tree, and of a stone, which are 
represented to men sleeping, have their names also, 
though they be not things, but only fictions and phan- 
tasms of things. For we can remember these ; and, there- 
fore, it is no less necessary that they have names to mark 
and signify them, than the things themselves. Also this 
word future is a name, but no future thing has yet any 
being, nor do we know whether that which we call future, 
shall ever have a being or no. Nevertheless, seeing we 
use in our mind to knit together things past with those 
that are present, the name future serves to signify such 
knitting together. Moreover, that which neither is, nor 
has been, nor ever Shall, or ever can be, has a name, 



18 ELEMENTS OF PHILOSOPHY 

namely, that which neither is nor has been, &c. ; or more 
briefly this, impossible. To conclude ; this word nothing 
is a name, which yet cannot be the name of any thing: 
for when, for example, we substract 2 and 3 from 5, and 
so nothing remaining, we would call that substraction to 
mind, this speech nothing remains, and in it the word 
nothing is not unuseful. And for the same reason we say 
truly, less than nothing remains, when we substract more 
from less; for the mind feigns such remains as these 
for doctrine's sake, and desires, as often as is necessary, 
to call the same to memory. But seeing every name has 
some relation to that which is named, though that which 
we name be not always a thing that has a being in na- 
ture, yet it is lawful for doctrine's sake to apply the word 
thing to whatsoever we name ; as if it were all one wheth- 
er that thing be truly existent, or be only feigned.* 

SUPPLEMENT FROM 

HUMAN NATURE, CHAPTER V. 
1. Seeing the succession of conceptions in the mind are 



2 Compare the following from the Leviathan (M. Ill, 673). 
"The use of words, is to register to ourselves, and make mani- 
fest to others the thoughts and conceptions of our minds. Of 
which words, some are the names of the things conceived; as 
the names of all sorts of bodies, that work upon the senses, and 
leave an impression in the imagination. Others are the names 
of the imaginations themselves ; that is to say, of those ideas, or 
mental images we have of all things we see, or remember. And 
others again are names of names ; or of different sorts of 
speech: as universal, plural, singular, are the names of names ; 
and definition, affirmation, negation, true, false, syllogism, interro- 
gation, promise, covenant, are the names of certain forms of 
speech. Others serve to show the consequence, or repugnance of 
one name to another ; as when one saith, a man is a body, he in- 
tendeth that the name of body is necessarily consequent to the 
name of man; as being but several names of the same thing, 
man; which consequence is signified by coupling them to- 
gether with the word is." 



OF NAMES 



19 



caused, as hath been said before, by the succession they 
had one to another when they were produced by the 
senses, and that there is no conception that hath not been 
produced immediately before or after innumerable other c , 
by the innumerable acts of sense; it must needs follow, 
that one conception followeth not another, according to 
our election, and the need we have of them, but as it 
chctnceth us to hear or see such things as shall bring them 
to our mind. The experience we have hereof, is in such 
brute beasts, which, having the providence to hide the 
remains and superfluity of their meat, do nevertheless 
want the remembrance of the place where they hid it, and 
thereby make no benefit thereof in their hunger : but man, 
who in this point beginneth to rank himself somewhat 
above the nature of beasts, hath observed and remem- 
bered the cause of this defect, and to amend the same, 
hath imagined or devised to set up a visible or other sen- 
sible mark, the which, when he seeth it again, may bring 
to his mind the thought he had when he set it up. A 
mark therefore is a sensible object which a man erecteth 
voluntarily to himself, to the end to remember thereby 
somewhat past, when the same is objected to his sense 
again : as men that have passed by a rock at sea, set up 
some mark, thereby to remember their former danger, 
and avoid it 

2. In the number of these marks, are those human 
voices, which we call the names or appellations of things 
sensible by the ear, by which we recall into our mind 
some conceptions of the things to which we gave those 
names or appellations; as the appellation white bringeth 
to remembrance the quality of such objects as produce 
that color or conception in us. A name or appellation 
therefore is the voice of a man arbitrary, imposed for a 
mark to bring into his mind some conception concerning 
the thing on which it is imposed. 



2o ELEMENTS OF PHILOSOPHY 

3. Things named, are either the objects themselves, 
as a man ; or the conception itself that we have of man, 
as shape and motion: or some privation, which is when 
we conceive that there is something which we con- 
ceive, not in him ; as when we conceive he is not just, not 
finite, we give him the name of unjust, of infinite, which 
signify privation or defect; and to the privations them- 
selves we give the names of injustice and infiniteness: 
so that here be two sorts of names; one of things, in 
which we conceive something ; or of the conceptions them- 
selves, which are called positive: the other of things 
wherein we conceive privation or defect, and those names 
are called privative. 

4. By the advantage of names it is that we are capa- 
ble of science, which beasts, for want of them are not; 
nor man, without the use of them : for as a beast misseth 
not one or two out of many her young ones, for want of 
those names of order, one, two, and three, and which we 
call number; so neither would a man, without repeating 
orally or mentally the words of number, know how many 
pieces of money or other things lie before him. 

5. Seeing there be many conceptions of one and 
the same thing, and for every conception we give it a 
several name; it followeth that for one and the same 
thing, we have many names or attributes ; as to the same 
man we give the appellations of just, valiant, &c. for di- 
vers virtues; of strong, comely, &c. for divers qualities 
of the body. And again, because from divers 
things we receive like conceptions, many things must 
needs have the same appellation : as to all things we see, 
we give the same name of visible; and to all things we see 
moveable, we give the appellation of moveable: and 
those names we give to many, are called universal to them 
all ; as the name of man to every particular of mankind : 



OF NAMES Ji 

such appellation as we give to one only thing, we call w- 
dividual, or singularly; as Socrates, and other proper 
names : or, by circumlocution, he that writ the Iliads, for 
Homer. 

6. The universality of one name to many things, hath 
been the cause that men think the things are themselves 
universal; and so seriously contend, that besides Peter 
and John, and all the rest of the men that are, have been, 
or shall be in the world, there is yet something else that 
we call man, viz. man in general, deceiving themselves, 
by taking the universal, or general appellation, for the 
thing it signifieth : for if one should desire the painter to 
make him the picture of a man, which is as much as to 
say, of a man in general ; he meaneth no more, but that 
the painter should choose what man he pleaseth to draw, 
which must needs be some of them that are, or have been, 
or may be, none of which are universal. But when he 
would have him to draw the picture of the king, or any 
particular person, he limiteth the painter to that one per- 
son he chooseth. It is plain therefore, that there is noth- 
ing universal but names; which are therefore called in- 
definite; because we limit them not ourselves, but leave 
them to be applied by the hearer: whereas a singular 
name is limited and restrained to one of the many things 
it signifieth ; as when we say, this man, pointing to him, 
or giving him his proper name, or by some such other 
way. 3 

7. The appellations that be universal, and common 
to many things, are not always given to all the particu- 



s Compare the following from the Elements of Philosophy, 
(M. I, 19-20). "A common name, being the name of many things 
severally taken, but not collectively of all together (as man is 
not the name of all mankind, but of every one, as of Peter, John, 
and the rest severally) is therefore called an universal name; 



22 ELEMENTS OF PHILOSOPHY 

lars, (as they ought to be) for like conceptions, and like 
considerations in them all ; which is the cause that many 
of them are not of constant signification, but bring into 
our mind other thoughts than those for which they were 
ordained, and these are called equivocal. As for example, 
the word faith signifieth the same with belief ; sometimes 
it signifieth particularly that belief which maketh a Chris- 
tian ; and sometime it signifieth the keeping of a promise. 
Also all metaphors are by profession equivocal: and there 
is scarce any word that is not made equivocal by divers 
contextures of speech, or by diversity of pronunciation 
and gesture. 

8. This equivocation of names maketh it difficult to re- 
cover those conceptions for which the name was ordained ; 
and that not only in the language of other men, where- 
in we are to consider the drift, and occasion, and con- 
texture of the speech, as well as the words themselves; 
but also in our discourse, which being derived from the 
custom and common use of speech, representeth unto us 
not our own conceptions. It is therefore a great ability 
in a man, out of the words, contexture, and other circum- 
stances of language, to deliver himself from equivocation, 
and to find out the true meaning of what is said : and this 
is it we call understanding. 



and therefore this word universal is never the name of anything 
existent in nature, nor of any idea or phantasm formed in the 
mind, but alwavs the name of some word or name ; so that when 
a living creature, a stone, a spirit, or any other thing, is said to be 
universal, it is not to be understood, that any man, stone, &c. 
ever was or can be universal, but only that these words, living 
creature, stone, &>c. are universal names, that is, names common 
to many things ; and the conceptions answering them in our 
mind, are the images and phantasms of several living creatures, 
or other things. And therefore, for the understanding of the ex- 
tent of an universal name, we need no other faculty but that of 
our imagination, by which we remember that such names bring 
sometimes one thing, sometimes another, into our mind." 



OF NAMES 33 

9. Of two appellations, by the help of this little verb 
is, or something equivalent, we make an affirmation or 
negation, either of which in the Schools we call also a 
proposition, and consisteth of two appellations joined 
together by the said verb is: as for example, man is a 
living creature; or thus, man is not righteous: whereof 
the former is called an affirmation, because the appella- 
tion, living creature, is positive; the latter a negative, be- 
cause not righteous is privative. 

10. In every proposition, be it affirmative or nega- 
tive, the latter appellation either comprehendeth the for- 
mer, as in this proposition, charity is a virtue, the name of 
virtue comprehendeth the name of charity, and many 
other virtues beside; and then is the proposition said to 
be true or truth: for, truth, and a true proposition, is all 
one. Or else the latter appellation comprehendeth not the 
former; as in this proposition, every man is just; the 
name of just comprehendeth not every man ; for unjust is 
the name of the far greater part of men : and the propo- 
sition is said to be false, or falsity: falsity and a false 
proposition being also the same thing. 

11. In what manner of two propositions, whether 
both affirmative, or one affirmative, the other negative, 
is made a syllogism, I forbear to write. All this that hath 
been said of names or propositions, though necessary, is 
but dry discourse : and this place is not for the whole art 
of logic, which if I enter further into, I ought to pur- 
sue : besides, it is not needful ; for there be few men which 
have not so much natural logic, as thereby to discern well 
enough, whether any conclusion I shall make in this dis- 
course hereafter, be well or ill collected : only thus much 
I say in this place, that making of syllogisms is that we 
call ratiocination or reasoning. 

12. Now when a man reasoneth from principles that 



24 ELEMENTS OF PHILOSOPHY 

are found indubitable by experience, all deceptions of 
sense and equivocation of words avoided, the conclusion 
he maketh is said to be according to right reason: but 
when from his conclusion a man may, by good ratiocina- 
tion, derive that which is contradictory to any evident 
truth whatsoever, then he is said to have concluded 
against reason: and such a conclusion is called ab- 
surdity. 

13. As the invention of names hath been necessary 
for the drawing men out of ignorance, by calling to their 
remembrance the necessary coherence of one conception 
to another; so also hath it on the other side precipitated 
men into error: insomuch, that whereas by the benefit 
of words and ratiocination they exceed brute beasts in 
knowledge, and the commodities that accompany the 
same; so they exceed them also in error: for true and 
false are things not incident to beasts, because they ad- 
here not to propositions and language; nor have they 
ratiocination, whereby to multiply one untruth by another, 
as men have. 

14. It is the nature almost of every corporal thing, 
being often moved in one and the same manner, to re- 
ceive continually a greater and greater easiness and apti- 
tude to the same motion, insomuch as in time the same 
becometh so habitual, that, to beget it, there needs 
no more than to begin it. The passions of man, as they 
are the beginning of voluntary motions; so are they the 
beginning of speech, which is the motion of the tongue. 
And mien desiring to shew others the knowledge, opin- 
ions, conceptions, and passions which are in themselves, 
and to that end having invented language, have by that 
means transferred all that discursion of their mind men- 
tioned in the former chapter, by the motion of their 
tongues, into discourse of words: and ratio now is but 



OF NAMES 25 

oratio, for the most part, wherein custom hath so great 
a power, that the mind suggesteth only the first word; 
the rest follow habitually, and are not followed by the 
mind; as it is with beggars, when they say their pater- 
noster, putting together such words, and in such man- 
ner, as in their education they have learned from 
their nurses, from their companies, or from their teach- 
ers, having no images or conceptions in their mind, an- 
swering to the words they speak: and as they have 
learned themselves, so they teach posterity. Now, if we 
consider the power of those deceptions of the sense, men- 
tioned chapter 11. section 10, and also how unconstantly 
names have been settled, and how subject they are 
to equivocation, and how diversified by passion, 
(scarce two men agreeing what is to be called good, and 
what evil ; what liberality, what prodigality ; what valour, 
what temerity) and how subject men are to paralogism or 
fallacy in reasoning, I may in a manner conclude, that it 
is impossible to rectify so many errors of any one man, 
as must needs proceed from those causes, without begin- 
ning anew from the very first grounds of all our knowl- 
edge and sense ; and instead of books, reading over order- 
ly one's own conceptions : in which meaning, I take nosce 
teipsum for a precept worthy the reputation it hath got- 
ten/ 



4 Compare on the whole discussion the Leviathan, Ch. IV. 
Hobbes'_ discussion of abstract names is important. Compare on 
this topic the Elements of Philosophy, Ch. HI, Sec. 3-4, also the 
following from the same work, (M. I. 103). "If concerning the 
name of a body, that is, concerning a concrete name, it be 
asked, what is it? the answer must be made by definition ; for the 
question is concerning the signification of the name. But if it be 
asked concerning an abstract name, what is it?- the cause is de- 
manded why a thing appears so or so. As if it be asked, what 
is hard? The answer will be, hard is that, whereof no part 
gives place, but when the whole gives place. But if it be de- 
manded, what is hardness? a cause must be shown why a part 
does not give place, except the whole give place." Also An 



CHAPTER III. 

OF PROPOSITIONS. 

I. Divers kinds of speech. — 2. Proposition defined. — 3. Subject, 
predicate, and copula, what they are; and abstract and con- 
crete what. — 4. The use and abuse of names abstract. — [5. Pro- 
position, universal and particular. — 6. Affirmative and nega- 
gative.] — 7. True and false. — 8. True and false belongs to 
speech, and not to things. — [9. Proposition, primary, not 
primary, definition, axiom, petition. — 10. Proposition, neces- 
sary and contingent. — 11. Categorical and hypothetical. — 12. 
The same proposition diversely pronounced. — 13. Proposi- 
tions that may be reduced to the same categorical proposition, 
are equipollent.— 14. Universal propositions converted by con- 
tradictory names, are equipollent. — 15. Negative propositions 
are the same, whether negation be before or after the copula. 
— 16. Particular propositions simply converted, are equipol- 
lent. — 17. What are subaltern, contrary, subcontrary, and con- 
tradictory propositions.] — 18. Consequence, what it is. — 19. 
Falsity cannot follow from truth. — 20. How one proposition 
is the cause of another. 

I. From the connexion or contexture of names arise 
divers kinds of speech, whereof some signify the desires 
and affections of men; such are, first, interrogations, 
which denote the desire of knowing: as, Who is a good 
man? In which speech there is one name expressed, 
and another desired and expected from him of whom we 
ask the same. Then prayers, which signify the desire of 
having something; promises, threats, wishes, commands, 
complaints, and other significations of other affections. 
Speech may also be absurd and insignificant; as when 
there is a succession of words, to which there can be no 
succession of thoughts in mind to answer them ; and this 
happens often to such, as, understanding nothing in some 
subtle matter, do, nevertheless, to make others believe 
they understand, speak of the same incoherently ; for the 

Answer to Bishop Bramhall, (M. IV, 309). "Essence and all 
other abstract names, are words artificial belonging to the art of 
logic, and signify onlv the manner how we consider the substance 
itself." 



OF PROPOSITIONS 27 

connection of incoherent words, though it want the end 
of speech (which is signification) yet it is speech; and is 
used by writers of metaphysics almost as frequently as 
speech significative. In philosophy, there is but one kind 
of speech useful, which some call in Latin dictum, others 
enuntiatum et pronunciatum ; but most men call it prop- 
osition, and is the speech of those that affirm or deny, and 
expresseth truth or falsity. 

2. A proposition is a speech consisting of two names 
copulated, by which he that speaketh signifies he con- 
ceives the latter name to be the name of the same thing 
whereof the former is the name; or (which is all one) 
that the former name is comprehended by the latter. For 
example, this speech, man is a living creature, in which 
two names are copulated by the verb is, is a proposition, 
for this reason, that he that speaks it conceives both liv- 
ing creature and man to be names of the same thing, or 
that the former name, man, is comprehended by the latter 
name, living creature. Now the former name is com- 
monly called the subject, or antecedent, or the contained 
name, and the latter the predicate, consequent, or con- 
taining name. The sign of connection amongst most 
nations is either some word, as the word is in the prop- 
osition man is a living creature, or some case or termina- 
tion of a word, as in this proposition, man walketh 
(which is equivalent to this, man is walking) ; the term- 
ination by which it is said he walketh, rather than he is 
walking, signifieth that those two are understood to be 
copulated, or to be names of the same thing. 

But there are, or certainly may be, some nations that 
have no word which answers to our verb is, who never- 
theless form propositions by the position only of one 
name after another, as if instead of man is a living creat- 
ure, it should be said man a living creature; for the very 



28 ELEMENTS OF PHILOSOPHY 

order of the names may sufficiently show their connec- 
tion; and they are as apt and useful in philosophy, as if 
they were copulated by the verb is. 1 

3. Wherefore, in every proposition three things are 
to be considered, viz. the two names, which are the sub- 
ject, and the predicate, and their copulation; both which 
names raise in our mind the thought of one and the same 
thing; but the copulation makes us think of the cause 
for which those names were imposed on that thing. As, 
for example, when we say a body is moveable, though we 
conceive the same thing to be designed by both those 
names, yet our mind rests not there, but searches farther 
what it is to be a body, or to be moveable, that is, wherein 
consists the difference betwixt these and other things, for 
which these are so called, others are not so called. They, 
therefore, that seek what it is to be any thing, as to be 
moveable, to be hot, &c. seek in things the causes of 
their names. 

And from hence arises that distinction of names 
(touched in the last chapter) into concrete and abstract. 
For concrete is the name of any thing which we suppose 
to have a being, and is therefore called the subject, in 
Latin suppositum, and in Greek onoxstjievov ; as body, 
moveable, moved, figurate, a cubit high, hot, cold, like, 
equal, Appius, Lentulus, and the like; and, abstract is 



1 Compare above, Supplement to Ch. II, Sec. 9. Also the fol- 
lowing from the Leviathan, (M. Ill, 674). "When we say, a man 
is a living body, we mean not that the man is one thing, the liv- 
ing body another, and the is, or being a third; but that the man, 
and the living body, is the same thing; because the consequence, 
if he be a man, he is a living body, is a true consequence, signi- 
fied by that word is. Therefore, to be a body, to walk, to be 
speaking, to live, to see, and the like infinitives ; also corporeity, 
walking, speaking, life, sight, and the like, that signify just the 
same, are the names of nothing." 



OF PROPOSITIONS 29 

that which in any subject denotes the cause of the con- 
crete name, as to be a body, to be moveable, to be moved, 
to be Hgurate, to be of such quantity, to be hot, to be 
cold, to be like, to be equal, to be Appius, to be Lentulus, 
&c. Or names equivalent to these, which are most com- 
monly called abstract names, as corporiety, mobility, mo- 
tion, figure, quantity, heat, cold, likeness, equality, and 
(as Cicero has it) Appiety and Lentulity. Of the same 
kind also are infinitives ; for to live and to move are the 
same with life and motion, or to be living and to 
be moved. But abstract names denote only the causes 
of concrete names, and not the things themselves. For 
example, when we see anything, or conceive in our mind 
any visible thing, that thing appears to us, or is conceived 
by us, not in one point, but as having parts distant from 
one another, that is, as being extended and filling some 
space. Seeing therefore we call the thing so conceived 
body, the cause of that name is, that that thing is ex- 
tended, or the extension or corporiety of it So when we 
see a thing appear sometimes here, sometimes there, and 
call it moved or removed, the cause of that name is that 
it is moved or the motion of the same. 

And these causes of names are the same with the causes 
of our conceptions, namely, some power of action, or af- 
fection of the thing conceived, which some call the man- 
ner by which any thing works upon our senses, but by 
most men they are called accidents; I say accidents, not 
in that sense in which accident is opposed to necessary ; 
but so, as being neither the things themselves, nor parts 
thereof, do nevertheless accompany the things in such 
manner, that (saving extension) they may all perish, and 
be destroyed, but can never be abstracted. 

4. There is also this difference betwixt concrete and 
abstract names, that those were invented before propo- 



30 ELEMENTS OF PHILOSOPHY 

sitions, but these after; for these could have no being- 
till there were propositions, from whose copula they 
proceed. Now in all matters that concern this life, but 
chiefly in philosophy, there is both great use and great 
abuse of abstract names; and the use consists in this, that 
without them we cannot, for the most part, either reason, 
or compute the properties of bodies ; for when we would 
multiply, divide, add, or substract heat, light, or motion, 
if we should double or add them together by concrete 
names, saying (for example) hot is double to hot, light 
double to light, or moved double to moved, we should 
not double the properties, but the bodies themselves that 
are hot, light, moved, &c. which we would not do. But 
the abuse proceeds from this, that some men seeing they 
can consider, that is (as I said before) bring into ac- 
count the increasings and decreasings of quantity, heat 
and other accidents, without considering their bodies or 
subjects (which they call abstracting, or making to ex- 
ist apart by themselves) they speak of accidents, as if 
they might be separated from all bodies. And from 
hence proceed the gross errors of writers of metaphysics ; 
for, because they can consider thought without the con- 
sideration of body, they infer there is no need of a think- 
ing-body ; and because quantity may be considered with- 
out considering body, they think also that quantity may 
be without body, and body without quantity ; and that a 
body has quantity by the addition of quantity to it. 
From the same fountain spring those insignificant words, 
abstract substance, separated essence, and the like; as 
also that confusion of words derived from the Latin 
verb est, as essence, essentiality, entity, entitative; be- 
sides reality, aliquiddity, quiddity, &c. which could never 
have been heard of among such nations as do not copu- 
late their names by the verb is, but by adjective verbs, as 



OF PROPOSITIONS 31 

runneth, readeth, &c. or by the mere placing of One name 
after another ; and yet seeing such nations compute and 
reason, it is evident that philosophy has no need of those 
words essence, entity, and other the like barbarous terms. 



7. The third distinction is, that one is true, another 
false. A true proposition is that, whose predicate con- 
tains, or comprehends its subject, or whose predicate is 
the name of every thing, of which the subject is the 
name; as man is a living creature is therefore a true 
proposition, because whatsoever is called man, the same 
is also called living creature; and some man is sick, is 
true, because sick is the name of some man. That which 
is not true, or that whose predicate does not contain its 
subject, is called a false proposition, as man is a stone. 2 

Now these words true, truth, and true proposition, 
are equivalent to one another; for truth consists in 
speech, and not in the things spoken of; and though true 
be sometimes opposed to apparent or feigned, yet it is al- 
ways to be referred to the truth of proposition; for the 
image of a man in a glass, or a ghost, is therefore denied 
to be a very man, because this proposition, a ghost is a 
man, is not true ; for it cannot be denied but that a ghost 
is a very ghost. And therefore truth or verity is not any 
affection of the thing, but of the proposition concerning 
it. As for that which the writers of metaphysics say, 
that a thing, one thing, and a very thing, are equiv- 
alent to one another, it is but trifling and childish; for 
who does not know, that a man, one mom, and a very 
man, signify the same. 8 



2 Compare above, Supplement to Ch. II, Sec. 10. 
8 Compare below Ch. V. also the Leviathan p. 124. 



32 ELEMENTS OF PHILOSOPHY 

8. And from hence it is evident, that truth and fals- 
ity have no place but amongst such living creatures as 
use speech. For though some brute creatures, looking 
upon the image of a man in a glass, may be affected with 
it, as if it were the man himself, and for this reason fear 
it or fawn upon it in vain ; yet they do not apprehend 
it as true or false, but only as like ; and in this they are 
not deceived. Wherefore, as men owe all their true 
ratiocination to the right understanding of speech; so 
also they owe their errors to the misunderstanding of 
the same ; and as all the ornaments of philosophy proceed 
only from man, so from man also is derived the ugly 
absurdity of false opinions. For speech has something 
in it like to a spider's web, (as it was said of old of 
Solon's laws) for by contexture of words tender and 
delicate wits are ensnared and stopped; but strong wits 
break easily through them. 4 

From hence also this may be deduced, that the first 
truths were arbitrarily made by those that first of all 
imposed names upon things, or received them from the 
imposition of others. For it is true (for example) that 
man is a living creature, but it is for this reason, that it 
pleased men to impose both those names on the same 
thing. 5 



1 8. A proposition is said to follow from two other 
propositions, when these being granted to be true, it can- 



* Compare above, Supplement to Ch. II, Sec. 13. 

6 Compare the following from Philosophical Rudiments, (M. 
II, 302-304). "We grant propositions sometimes, which not- 
withstanding we receive not into our minds; and this either for 
a time, to wit, so long, till by consideration of the consequences 



OF PROPOSITIONS 33 

not be denied but the other is true also. For example, 
let these two propositions, every man is a living creature, 
and, every living creature is a body, be supposed true, 
that is, that body, is the name of every living creature, 
and living creature the name of every man. Seeing 



we have well examined the truth of them, which we call sup- 
posing; or also simply, as through fear of the laws, which is to 
profess, or confess by outward tokens ; or for a voluntary com- 
pliance sake, which men use out of civility to those whom they 
respect, and for love of peace to others, which is absolute yield- 
ing. Now the propositions which we receive for truth, we al- 
ways grant for some reasons of our own; and these are de- 
rived either from the proposition itself, or from the person pro- 
pounding. They are derived from the proposition itself, by call- 
ing to mind what things those words, which make up the prop- 
osition, do by common consent usually signify. If so, then the 
assent which we give, is called knowledge or science. But if we 
cannot remember what is certainly understood by those words, 
but sometimes one thing, sometimes another seem to be appre- 
hended by us, then we are said to think. For example, if it be 
propounded that two and three make five; and by calling to mind, 
that the order of numeral words is so appointed by the com- 
mon consent of them who are of the same language with us, 
(as it were, by a certain contract necessary for human society), 
that five shall be the name of so many unities as are contained 
in two and three taken together, a man assent that this is there- 
fore true, because two and three together are the same with five : 
this assent shall be called knowledge. And to know this truth 
is nothing else, but to acknowledge that it is made by ourselves. 
For by whose will and rules of speaking the number | | is called 
two, J I I is called three, and | [ | | | is called five ; by their will 
also it comes to pass that this proposition is true, two and three 
taken together make five. In like manner if we remember what 
it is that is called theft, and what injury; we shall understand by 
the words themselves, whether it be true that theft is an injury, or 
not. Truth is the same with a true proposition; but the proposition 
is true in which the word consequent, which by logicians is called 
the predicate, embraceth the word antecedent in its amplitude, 
which they call the subject. And to know truth, is the same thing 
as to remember that it was made bv ourselves by the very usur- 
pation of the words." Compare also the following from the Ele- 
ments of Philosophy, (M. I, 130-131). "All propositions con- 
cerning future things, contingent or not contingent, as this, it 
will rain tomorrow, or this, tomorrow the sun will rise, are 
cither necessarily true, or necessarily false; but we call them 
contingent, because we do not yet know whether they be true or 



34 ELEMENTS OF PHILOSOPHY 

therefore, if these be understood to be true, it cannot 
be understood that body is not the name of every man, 
that is, that every man is a body is false, this proposition 
will be said to follow from those two, or to be neces- 
sarily inferred from them. 

19. That a true proposition may follow from false 
propositions, may happen sometimes ; but false from true, 
never. For if these, every man is a stone, and every 
stone is a living creature, (which are both false) be 
granted to be true, it is granted also that living creature 
is the name of every stone, and stone of every man, that 
is, that living creature is the name of every man; that 
is to say, this proposition every man is a living creature, 
is true, as it is indeed true. Wherefore a true proposi- 
tion may sometimes follow from false. But if any two 
propositions be true, a false one can never follow from 
them. For if true follow from false, for this reason only, 
that the false are granted to be true, then truth from two 
truths granted will follow in the same manner. 

20. Now, seeing none but a true proposition will fol- 
low from true, and that the understanding of two prop- 
ositions to be true, is the cause of understanding that 
also to be true which is deduced from them ; the two an- 
tecedent propositions are commonly called the causes of 



false; whereas their verity depends not upon our knowledge, but 
upon the foregoing of their causes. But there are some, who 
though they confess this whole proposition, tomorrow it will 
either rain, or not rain, to be true, yet they will not acknowledge 
the parts of it, as, tomorrow it will rain, or tomorrow it will not 
rain, to be either of them true by itself ; because they say neither 
this nor that is true determinately. But what is this determinate- 
ly true, but true upon our knowledge, or evidently true?' And 
therefore they say no more but that it is not yet known whether 
it be true or no; but they say it more obscurely, and darken the 
evidence of the truth with the same words, with which they en- 
deavor to hide their own ignorance." 



OF PROPOSITIONS 35 

the inferred proposition, or conclusion. And from hence 
it is that logicians say, the premises are causes of the 
conclusion; which may pass, though it be not properly 
spoken; for though understanding be the cause of un- 
derstanding, yet speech is not the cause of speech. But 
when they say, the cause of the properties of any thing, 
is the thing itself, they speak absurdly. For example, 
if a figure be propounded which is triangular; seeing 
every triangle has all its angles together equal to two 
right angles, from whence it follows that all the angles 
of that figure are equal to two right angles, they say, 
for this reason, that that figure is the cause of that 
equality. But seeing the figure does not itself make its 
angles, and therefore cannot be said to be the efficient- 
cause, they call it the formal-cause ; whereas indeed it is 
no cause at all ; nor does the property of any figure fol- 
low the figure, but has its being at the same time with 
it; only the knowledge of the figure goes before the 
knowledge of the properties ; and one knowledge is truly 
the cause of another knowledge, namely the efficient 
cause. 

And thus much concerning proposition; which in the 
progress of philosophy is the first step, like the moving 
fowards of one foot. By the due addition of another 
step I shall proceed to syllogism, and make a complete 
pace. Of which in the next chapter. 



CHAPTER IV. 

OF SYLLOGISM. 

i. The definition of syllogism. — 2. In a syllogism there are but 
three terms. — 3. Major, minor, and middle term; also major 
and minor proposition, what they are. — [4. The middle term 
in every syllogism ought to be determined in both the propo- 
sitions to one and the same thing. — 5. From two particular 
propositions nothing can be concluded.— 6. A syllogism is 
the collection of two propositions into one sum. — 7. The fig- 
ure of a syllogism, what it is.] — 8. What is in the mind an- 
swering to a syllogism. — [9. The first indirect figure, how it 
is made. — 10. The second indirect figure, how made. — 11. 
How the third indirect figure is made. — 12. There are many 
moods in every figure, but most of them useless in philos- 
ophy. — 13. An hypothetical syllogism when equipollent to a 
categorical.] 

I. A speech, consisting of three propositions, from two 
of which the third follows, is called a syllogism ; and 
that which follows is called the conclusion; the other 
two premises. For example, this speech, every man is 
a living creature, every living creature is a body, there- 
fore, every man is a body, is a syllogism, because the 
third proposition follows from the two first; that is, if 
those be granted to be true, this must also be granted 
to be true. 

2. From two propositions which have not one term 
common, no conclusion can follow ; and therefore no 
syllogism can be made of them. For let any two prem- 
ises, a man is a living creature, a tree is a plant, be both 
of them true, yet because it cannot be collected from 
them that plant is the name of a man, or man the 
name of a plant, it is not necessary that this conclusion, 
a man is a plant, should be true. Corollary: therefore, 
in the premises of a syllogism there can be but three 
terms. 



OF SYLLOGISM 37 

Besides, there can be no term in the conclusion, which 
was not in the premises. For let any two premises be, 
a man is a living creature, a Hiring creature is a body, 
yet if any other term be put in the conclusion, as man 
is two-footed; though it be true, it cannot follow from 
the premises, because from them it cannot be collected, 
that the name two-footed belongs to a man; and there- 
fore, again, in every syllogism there can be but three 
terms. 

3. Of these terms, that which is the predicate in the 
conclusion, is commonly called the major; that which is 
the subject in the conclusion, the minor, and the other 
is the middle term; as in this syllogism, a man is a liv- 
ing creature, a living creature is a body, therefore, a 
man is a body, body is the major, man the minor, and 
living creature the middle term. Also of the premises, 
that in which the major term is found, is called the 
major proposition, and that which has the minor term, 
the minor proposition. 



8. The thoughts in the mind answering to a direct 
syllogism, proceed in this manner; first, there is con- 
ceived a phantasm of the thing named, with that acci- 
dent or quality thereof, for which it is in the minor 
proposition called by that name which is the subject; 
next, the mind has a phantasm of the same thing with 
that accident, or quality, for which it hath the name, that 
in the same proposition is the predicate; thirdly, the 
thought returns of the same thing as having that acci- 
dent in it, for which it is called by the name, that is the 
predicate of the major proposition; and lastly, remem- 
berng that all those are the accidents of one and the 



38 ELEMENTS OF PHILOSOPHY 

same thing, it concludes that those three names are also 
names of one and the same thing ; that is to say, the con- 
clusion is true. For example, when this syllogism is 
made, man is a living creature, a living creature is a 
body, therefore, man is a body, the mind conceives first 
an image of a man speaking or discoursing, and remem- 
bers that that, which so appears, is called man; then it 
has the image of the same man moving, and remembers 
that that, which appears so, is called living creature; 
thirdly, it conceives an image of the same man, as fill- 
ing some place or space, and remembers that what ap^ 
pears so is called body; and lastly, when it remembers 
that that thing, which was extended, and moved and 
spake, was one and the same thing, it concludes that 
the three names, man, living creature, and body, are 
names of the same thing, and that therefore man is a 
living creature is a true proposition. From whence it is 
manifest, that living creatures that have not the use of 
speech, have no conception or thought in the mind, an- 
swering to a syllogism made of universal propositions; 
seeing it is necessary to think not only of the thing, but 
also by turns to remember the divers names, which for 
divers considerations thereof are applied to the same. 



CHAPTER V. 

OF ERRING, FALSITY, AND CAPTIONS. 

I. Erring and falsity how they differ. Error of the mind by 
itself without the use of words, how it happens. — 2. A seven- 
fold incoherency of names, every one of which makes always 
a false proposition. — [3. Examples of the first manner of in- 
coherency. — 4. Of the second. — 5. Of the third. — 6. Of the 
fourth.— 7. Of the fifth.— 8. Of the sixth.— 9. Of the sev- 
enth.] — 10. Falsity of propositions detected by resolving the 
terms with definitions continued till they come to simple 
names, or names that are the most general of their kind.-^ 
[11. Of the fault of a syllogism consisting in the implication 
of the terms with the copula. — 12. Of the fault which consists 
in equivocation. — 13. Sophistical captions are oftener faulty 
in the matter than in the form of syllogisms.] 

I. Men are subject to err not only in affirming and 
denying, but also hi perception, and in silent cogita- 
tion. 1 In affirming and denying, when they call any 
thing by a name, which is not the name thereof; as if 
from seeing the sun first by reflection in water, and 
afterwards again directly in the firmament, we should 
to both those appearances give the name of sun, and say 
there are two suns ; which none but men can do, 
for no other living creatures have the use of names. This 
kind of error only deserves the name of falsity, as aris- 
ing, not from sense, nor from the things themselves, 
but from pronouncing rashly; for names have their 
constitution, not from the species of things, but from the 
will and consent of men. And hence it comes to pass, 
that men pronounce falsely, by their own negligence, in 
departing from such appellations of things as are agreed 
upon, and are not deceived neither by the things, nor by 



1 Compare below the Leviathan, p. 124. 



4 o ELEMENTS OF PHILOSOPHY 

the sense ; for they do not perceive that the thing they see 
is called sun, but they gave it that name from their own 
will and agreement. Tacit errors, or the errors of sense 
and cogitation, are made, by passing from one imagina- 
tion to the imagination of another different thing; or by 
feigning that to be past, or future, which never was, nor 
ever shall be; as when, by seeing the image of the sun in 
water, we imagine the sun itself to be there ; or by see- 
ing swords, that there has been or shall be fighting, be- 
cause it uses to be so for the most part; or when from 
promises we feign the mind of the promiser to be such 
and such; or lastly, when from any sign we vainly im- 
agine something to be signified, which is not. And er- 
rors of this sort are common to all things that have sense ; 
and yet the deception proceeds neither from our senses, 
nor from the things we perceive; but from ourselves 
while we feign such things as are but mere images to be 
something more than images. But neither things, nor 
imaginations of things, can be said to be false, seeing 
they are truly what they are; nor do they, as signs, prom- 
ise anything which they do not perform; for they indeed 
do not promise at all, but we from them ; nor do the 
clouds, but we, from seeing the clouds, say it shall rain. 
The best way, therefore, to free ourselves from such er- 
rors as arise from natural signs, is first of all, before we 
begin to reason concerning such conjectural things, to sup- 
pose ourselves ignorant, and then to make use of our 
ratiocination; for these errors proceed from the want of 
ratiocination; whereas, errors which consist in affirma- 
tion and negation, (that is, the falsity of propositions) 
proceed only from reasoning amiss. Of these, therefore, 
as repugnant to philosophy, I will speak principally. 2 



2 Compare below the Leviathan, p. 135. 



OF ERRING, FALSITY, AND CAPTIONS 41 

2. Errors which happen in reasoning, that is, in 
syllogizing, consist either in the falsity of the premises, 
or of the inference. In the first of these cases, a syllo- 
gism is said to be faulty in the matter of it; and in the 
second case, in the form. I will first consider the matter, 
namely, how many ways a proposition may be false ; and 
next the form, and how it comes to pass, that when the 
premises are true, the inference is, notwithstanding, 
false. 

Seeing, therefore, that proposition only is true, (chap, 
in, art. 7) in which are copulated two names of one 
and the same thing; and that always false, in which 
names of different things are copulated, look how many 
ways names of different things may be copulated, and so 
many ways a false proposition may be made. 

Now, all things to which we give names, may be 
reduced to these four kinds, namely, bodies, accidents, 
phantasms, and names themselves; and therefore, in 
every true proposition, it is necessary that the names cop- 
ulated, be both of them names of bodies, or both names of 
accidents, or both names of phantasms, or both names of 
names. For names otherwise copulated are incoherent, 
and constitute a false proposition. It may happen, also, 
that the name of a body, of an accident, or of a phan- 
tasm, may be copulated with the name of a speech. So 
that copulated names may be incoherent seven manner of 
ways. 8 



The falsities of propositions in all these several man- 



compare below the Leviathan, p. 136. Note Hobbes* definitions 
of body and accident. "Body is that, which having no depend- 
ence upon our thought, is coincident or coextended with *en%* 



42 ELEMENTS OF PHILOSOPHY 

ncrs, is to be discovered by the definitions of the copulated 
names. 

io. But when names of bodies are copulated with 
names of bodies, names of accidents with names of acci- 
dents, names of names with names of names, and names 
of phantasms with names of phantasms, if we, neverthe- 
less, remain still doubtful whether such propositions are 
true, we ought then in the first place to find out the defini- 
tion of both those names, and again the definitions of 



part of space." (M. I, 102). "They answer best that define an 
accident to be the manner by which any body is conceived; which 
is all one as if they should say, an accident is that faculty of any 
body, by which it works in us a conception of itself. * * * 
Wherefore, I define an accident to be the manner of our concep- 
tion of body." (M. I, 103, 104). In general the term phan- 
tasm with Hobbes is a generic term for any mental presentation, 
synonymous with the term idea in its common meaning; as for 
instance, (M. I, 92), "I say, therefore, there would remain to 
that man ideas of the world, and of all such bodies as he had, 
before their annihilation, seen with his eyes, or perceived by 
any other sense; that is to say, the memory and imagination of 
magnitudes, motions, sounds, colours, &c. as also of their or- 
der and parts. All which things, though they be nothing but 
ideas and phantasms, happening internally to him that imagineth ; 
yet they will appear as if they were external, and not at all 
depending upon any power of the mind." Also (M. I, 389). 
''In the first place, therefore, the causes of our perception, that 
is, the causes of those ideas and phantasms which are perpetual- 
ly generated within us whilst we make use of our senses, are to 
be enquired into." Occasionally the term is equivalent to after- 
image; as for instance, (M. IV, n-12), "There is yet another 
kind of imagination, which for clearness contendeth with sense, 
as well as a dream; and that is, when the action of sense hath 
been long or vehement: and the experience thereof is more fre- 
quent in the senseof seeing, than the rest. An example whereof 
is, the image remaining before the eye after looking upon the sun. 
Also, those little images that appear before the eyes in the dark 
(whereof I think every man hath experience, but they most of 
all, who are timorous or superstitious) are examples of the 
same. And these, for distinction-sake, may be called phantasms." 
Compare also below the Leviathan, p. 105, where speaking of 
the same phenomena, he says that this "kind of fancy hath no 
particular name." See also the Index. 



OF ERRING, FALSITY, AND CAPTIONS 43 

such names as are in the former definition, and so pro- 
ceed by a continual resolution till we come to a simple 
name, that is, to the most general or most universal name 
of that kind ; and if after all this, the truth or falsity 
thereof be not evident, we must search it out by philos- 
ophy, and ratiocination, beginning from definitions. For 
every proposition, universally true, is either a definition, 
or part of a definition, or the evidence of it depends upon 
definitions. 

11. That fault of a syllogism which lies hid in the 
form thereof, will always be found either in the impli- 
cation of the copula with one of the terms, or m the 
equivocation of some word; and in either of these v. ays 
there will be four terms, which (as I have shewn) cannot 
stand in a true syllogism. Now the implication of the 
copula with either term, is easily detected by reducing 
the propositions to plain and clear predication; as (for 
example) if any man should argue thus, 

The hand toucheth the pen, 
The pen toucheth the paper, 
Therefore, The hand toucheth the paper; 
the fallacy will easily appear by reducing it, thus: 
The hand, is, touching the pen, 
The pen, is, touching the paper, 
Therefore, The hand, is, touching the paper; 
where there are manifestly these four terms, the hand, 
touching the pen, the pen, and touching the paper. But 
the danger of being deceived by sophisms of this kind, 
does not seem to be so great, as that I need insist longer 
upon them. 

12. And though there may be fallacy in equivocal 
terms, yet in those that be manifestly such, there is none 
at all ; nor in metaphors, for they profess the transferring 



44 ELEMENTS OF PHILOSOPHY 

of names from one thing to another. Nevertheless, 
sometimes equivocals (and those not very obscure) may 
deceive; as in this argumentation: — // belongs to meta- 
physics to treat of principles; but the first principle of 
all, is, that the same thing cannot both exist and not ex- 
ist at the same time; and therefore it belongs to meta- 
physics to treat whether the same thing may both exist 
and not exist at the same time; where the fallacy lies in 
the equivocation of the word principle ; for whereas Aris- 
totle in the beginning of his Metaphysics, says, that the 
treating of principles belongs to primary science, he un- 
derstands by principles, causes of things, and certain ex- 
istences which he calls primary; but where he says a 
primary proposition is a principle, by principle, there, he 
means the beginning and cause of knowledge, that is, the 
understanding of words, which, if any man want, he is 
incapable of learning. 

13. But the captions of sophists and sceptics, by 
which they were wont, of old, to deride and oppose truth, 
were faulty for the most part, not in the form, but in the 
matter of syllogism ; and they deceived not others oftener 
than they were themselves deceived. For the force of 
that famous argument of Zeno against motion, consisted 
in this proposition, zvhatsoever may be divided into parts, 
infinite in number, the same is infinite; which he, with- 
out doubt, thought to be true, yet nevertheless is false. 
For to be divided into infinite parts, is nothing else but 
to be divided into as many parts as any man will. But 
it is not necessary that a line should have parts infinite in 
number, or be infinite, because I can divide and sub- 
divide it as often as I please ; for how many parts soever 
I make, yet their number is finite; but because he that 
says parts, simply, without adding how many, does not 
limit any number, but leaves it to the determination of the 



OF ERRING, FALSITY, AND CAPTIONS 45 

hearer, therefore we say commonly, a line may be divided 
infinitely; which cannot be true in any other sense. 

And thus much may suffice concerning syllogism, 
which is, as it were, the first pace towards philosophy; 
in which I have said as much as is necessary to teach any 
man from whence all true argumentation has its force. 
And to enlarge this treatise with all that may be heaped 
together, would be as superfluous, as if one should (as I 
said before) give a young child precepts for the teaching 
of him to go; for the art of reasoning is not so well 
learned by precepts as by practice, and by the reading of 
those books in which the conclusions are all made by 
severe demonstration. And so I pass on to the way of 
philosophy, that is, to the method of study. 



CHAPTER VI. 



OF METHOD. 



i. Method and science defined. — 2. It is more easily known con- 
cerning singular, than universal things, that they are; and con- 
trarily, it is more easily known concerning universal, than 
singular things, why they are, or what are their causes. — 
3. What it is philosophers seek to know. — 4. The first part, by 
which principles are found out, is purely analytical. — 5. The 
highest causes, and most universal in every kind, are known by 
themselves. — 6. Method from principles found out, tending to 
science simply, what it is. — 7. That method of civil and natural 
science, which proceeds from sense to principles, is analytical ; 
and again, that, which begins at principles, is synthetical. — 
8. The method of searching out, whether any thing propounded 
be matter or accident. — 9. The method of seeking whether 
any accident be in this, or in that subject. — 10. The method of 
searching after the cause of any effect propounded. — II. Words 
serve to invention, as marks; to demonstration, as signs. — 
12. The method of demonstration is synthetical. — 13. Definitions 
only are primary and universal propositions. — 14. The nature 
and definition of a definition. — 15. The properties of a definition. 
— 16. The nature of a demonstration. — 17. The properties of a 
demonstration, and order of things to be demonstrated. — 18. 
— The faults of a demonstration. — 19. Why the analytical meth- 
od of geometricians cannot be treated of in this place. 



1. For the understanding of method, it will be neces- 
sary for me to repeat the definition of philosophy, deliv- 
ered above (Chap. 1, art. 2,) in this manner, Philosophy 
is the knowledge we acquire, by true ratiocination, of 
appearances, or apparent effects, from the knowledge we 
have of some possible production or generation of the 
same; and of such production, as has been or may be, 
from the knowledge we have of the effects. Method, 
therefore, in the study of philosophy, is the shortest way 
of finding out effects by their known causes, or of causes 
by their known effects. But we are then said to know 



OF METHOD 47 

any effect, when we know that there be causes of the 
same, and in what subject those causes are, and in what 
subject they produce that effect, and in what manner they 
work the same. And this is the science of causes, or, 
as they call it, of the Siort. All other science, which is 
called the on, is either perception by sense, or the im- 
agination, or memory remaining after such percep- 
tion. 1 

The first beginnings, therefore, of knowledge, are the 
phantasms of sense and imagination; and that there be 
such phantasms we know well enough by nature ; but to 
know why they be, or from what causes they proceed, 
is the work of ratiocination; which consists (as is said 
above, in the ist Chapter, Art. 2) in composition, and 
division or resolution. There is therefore no method, 
by which we find out the causes of things, but is either 
compositive or resolutive, or partly compositive, and 
partly resolutive. And the resolutive is commonly called 
analytical method, as the compositive is called synthet- 
ical. 

2. It is common to all sorts of method, to proceed 
from known things to unknown ; and this is manifest 
from the cited definition of philosophy. But in knowl- 
edge by sense, the whole object is more known, than any 
part thereof; as when we see a man, the conception or 



1 Compare above Ch. I, Note 1, also the following from 
Human Nature, (M. IV, 27). "There be two kinds of knowl- 
edge, whereof the one is nothing else but sense, or knowledge 
original, and remembrance of the same ; the other is called 
science or knowledge of the truth of propositions, and how 
things are called, and is derived from understanding. Both 
of these sorts are but experience; the former being the exper- 
ience of the effects of things that work upon us from without, 
and the latter experience men have from the proper use of 
names in language: and all experience being, as I have said, but 
remembrance, all knowledge is remembrance." 



48 ELEMENTS OF PHILOSOPHY ' 

whole idea of that man is first or more known, than the 
particular ideas of his being Hgurate, animate, and ration- 
al; that is, we first see the whole man, and take notice 
of his being, before we observe in him those other par- 
ticulars. And therefore in any knowledge of the $**, or 
that any thing is, the beginning of our search is from 
the whole idea; and contrarily, in our knowledge of the 
5t6n t or of the causes of any thing, that is, in the 
sciences, we have more knowledge of the causes of the 
parts than of the whole. For the cause of the whole 
is compounded of the causes of the parts ; but it is neces- 
sary that we know the things that are to be compounded, 
before we can know the whole compound. Now, by 
parts, I do not here mean parts of the thing itself, but 
parts of its nature ; as, by the parts of man, I do not un- 
derstand his head, his shoulders, his arms, &c. but his 
figure, quantity, motion, sense, reason, and the like; 
which accidents being compounded or put together, con- 
stitute the whole nature of man, but not the man him- 
self. And this is the meaning of that common saying, 
namely, that some things are more known to us, others 
more known to nature; for I do not think that they, 
which so distinguish, mean that something is known to 
nature, which is known to no man; and therefore, by 
those things, that are more known to us, we are to un- 
derstand things we take notice of by our senses, and, 
by more known to nature, those we acquire the knowl- 
edge of by reason ; for in this sense it is, that the whole, 
that is, those things that have universal names, (which, 
for brevity's sake, I call universal) are more known to us 
than the parts, that is, such things as have names less uni- 
versal, (which I therefore call singular) ; and the causes 
of the parts are more known to nature than the cause of 
the whole ; that is, universals than singulars. 



OF METHOD 49 

3. In the study of philosophy, men search after 
science either simply or indefinitely; that is, to know as 
much as they can, without propounding to themselves any 
limited question; or they inquire into the cause of some 
determined appearance, or endeavour to find out the 
certainty of something in question, as what is the cause 
of light, of heat, of gravity, of a figure propounded, and 
the like; or in what subject any propounded accident is 
inherent ; or what may conduce most to the generation 
of some propounded effect from many accidents; or in 
what manner particular causes ought to be compounded 
for the production of some certain effect. Now, accord- 
ing to this variety of things in question, sometimes the 
analytical method is to be used, and sometimes the syn- 
thetical. 

4. But to those that search after science indefinitely, 
which consists in the knowledge of the causes of all 
things, as far forth as it may be attained, (and the causes of 
singular things are compounded of the causes of univer- 
sal or simple things) it is necessary that they know the 
causes of universal things, or of such accidents as are 
common to all bodies, that is, to all matter, before they 
can know the causes of singular things, that is, of those 
accidents by which one thing is distinguished from an- 
other. And, again, they must know what those univer- 
sal things are, before they can know their causes. More- 
over, seeing universal things are contained in the nature 
of singular things, the knowledge of them is to be ac- 
quired by reason, that is, by resolution. For example, if 
there be propounded a conception or idea of some sin- 
gular thing, as of a square, this square is to resolved 
into a plain, terminated with a certain number of equal 
and straight lines and right angles. For by this resolu- 
tion we have these things universal or agreeable to all 



SO ELEMENTS OF PHILOSOPHY 

matter, namely, line, plain, (which contains superficies) 
terminated, angle, straightness, rectitude, and equality; 
and if we can find out the causes of these, we may com- 
pound them altogether into the cause of a square. 
Again, if any man propound to himself the conception 
of gold, he may, by resolving, come to the ideas of solid, 
visible, heavy, (that is, tending to the centre of the earth, 
or downwards) and many other more universal than gold 
itself; and these he may resolve again, till he come to 
such things as are most universal. And in this manner, 
by resolving continually, we may come to know what 
those things are, whose causes being first known sever- 
ally, and afterwards compounded, bring us to the knowl- 
edge of singular things. I conclude, therefore, that the 
method of attaining to the universal knowledge of 
things, is purely analytical. 

5. But the causes of universal things (of those, at 
least, that have any cause) are manifest of themselves, 
or (as they say commonly) known to nature; so that they 
need no method at all ; for they have all but one universal 
cause, which is motion. For the variety of all figures 
arises out of the variety of those motions by which they 
are made ; and motion cannot be understood to have any 
other cause besides motion ; nor has the variety of those 
things we perceive by sense, as of colours, sounds, sav- 
ours, &c. any other cause than motion, residing partly in 
the objects that work upon our senses, and partly in our- 
selves, in such manner, as that it is manifestly some kind 
of motion, though we cannot, without ratiocination, come 
to know what kind. For though many cannot understand 
till it be in some sort demonstrated to them, that all 
mutation consists in motion; yet this happens not from 
any obscurity in the thing itself, (for it is not intelligible 
that anything can depart either from rest, cr from the 



OF METHOD 51 

motion it has, except by motion), but either by having 
their natural discourse corrupted with former opinions 
received from their masters, or else for this, that they do 
not at all bend their mind to the enquiring out of truth. 
6. By the knowledge therefore of universals, and ci 
their causes (which are the first principles by which we 
know the ftort of things) we have in the first place their 
definitions, (which are nothing but the explication of our 
simple conceptions.) For example, he that has a true 
conception of place, cannot be ignorant of this definition, 
place is that space which is possessed or filled adequately 
by some body; and so, he that conceives motion aright, 
cannot but know that motion is the privation of one 
place, and the acquisition of another. In the next place, 
we have their generations or descriptions; as (for ex- 
ample) that a line is made by the motion of a point, su- 
perficies by the motion of a line, and one motion by an- 
other motion, &c. It remains, that we enquire what mo- 
tion begets such and such effects ; as, what motion makes 
a straight line, and what a circular ; what motion thrusts, 
what draws, and by what way ; what makes a thing which 
is seen or heard, to be seen or heard sometimes in one 
manner, sometimes in another. Now the method of this 
kind of enquiry, is compositive. For first we are to ob- 
serve what effect a body moved produceth, when we con- 
sider nothing in it besides its motion ; and we see pres- 
ently that this makes a line, or length ; next, what the mo- 
tion of a long body produces, which we find to be super- 
ficies; and so forwards, till we see what the effects of 
simple motion are; and then, in like manner, we are to 
observe what proceeds from the addition, multiplication, 
subtraction, and division, of these motions, and what ef- 
fects, what figures, and what properties, they produce ; 
from which kind of contemplation sprung that part of 
philosophy which is called geometry. 



52 ELEMENTS OF PHILOSOPHY 

From this consideration of what is produced by sim- 
ple motion, we are to pass to the consideration of what 
effects one body moved worketh upon another; and be- 
cause there may be motion in all the several parts of a 
body, yet so as that the whole body remain still in the 
same place, we must enquire first, what motion causeth 
such and such motion in the whole, that is, when one 
body invades another body which is either at rest or in 
motion, what way, and with what swiftness, the invaded 
body shall move; and, again, what motion this second 
body will generate in a third, and so forwards. From 
which contemplation shall be drawn that part of philos- 
ophy which treats of motion. 

In the third place we must proceed to the enquiry of 
such effects as are made by the motion of the parts of 
any body, as, how it comes to pass, that things when 
they are the same, yet seem not to be the same, but 
changed. And here the things we search after are sen- 
sible qualities, such as light, colour, transparency, opa- 
city, sound, odour, savour, heat, cold, and the like ; which 
because they cannot be known till we know the causes 
of sense itself, therefore the consideration of the causes 
of seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting, and touching, be- 
longs to this third place; and all those qualities and 
changes, above mentioned, are to be referred to the fourth 
place ; which two considerations comprehend that part of 
philosophy which is called physics. And in these four 
parts is contained whatsoever in natural philosophy may 
be explicated by demonstration, properly so called. For 
if a cause were to be rendered of natural appearances in 
special, as, what are the motions and influences of the 
heavenly bodies, and of their parts, the reason hereof 
must either be drawn from the parts of the sciences 
above mentioned, or no reason at all will be given, but 
all left to uncertain conjecture. 



OF METHOD 53 

After physics we must come to moral philosophy ; in 
which we are to consider the motions of the mind, 
namely, appetite, aversion, love, benevolence, hope, fear, 
anger, emulation, envy, &c; what causes they have, and 
of what they be causes. And the reason why these are 
to be considered after physics is, that they have their 
causes in sense and imagination, which are the subject of 
physical contemplation. Also the reason, why all these 
things are to be searched after in the order above-said, 
is, that physics cannot be understood, except we know 
first what motions are in the smallest parts of bodies ; nor 
such motion of parts, till we know what it is that makes 
another body move; nor this, till we know what simple 
motion will effect. And because all appearance of things 
to sense is determined, and made to be of such and such 
quality and quantity by compounded motions, every one 
of which has a certain degree of velocity, and a certain 
and determined way; therefore, in the first place, we are 
to search out the ways of motion simply (in which geom- 
etry consists) ; next the ways of such generated motions 
as are manifest ; and, lastly, the ways of internal and in- 
visible motions (which is the enquiry of natural philos- 
ophers). And, therefore, they that study natural philoso- 
phy, study in vain, except they begin at geometry; and 
such writers or disputers thereof, as are ignorant of 
geometry, do but make their readers and hearers lose 
their time. 

7. Civil and moral philosophy do not so adhere to 
one another, but that they may be severed. For the 
causes of the motions of the mind are known, not only 
by ratiocination, but also by the experience of every man 
that takes the pains to observe those motions within him- 
self. And, therefore, not only they that have attained 
the knowledge of the passions and perturbations of the 



54 ELEMENTS OF PHILOSOPHY 

mind, by the synthetical method, and from the very first 
principles of philosophy, may by proceeding in the same 
way, come to the causes and necessity of constituting 
commonwealths, and to get the knowledge of what is nat- 
ural right, and what are civil duties ; and, in every kind 
of government, what are the rights of the commonwealth, 
and all other knowledge appertaining to civil philosophy ; 
for this reason, that the principles of the politics consist 
in the knowledge of the motions of the mind, and the 
knowledge of these motions from the knowledge of 
sense and imagination; but even they also that have 
not learned the first part of philosophy, namely, 
geometry and physics, may, notwithstanding, attain the 
principles of civil philosophy, by the analytical method. 
For if a question be propounded, as, whether such an ac- 
tion be just or unjust; if that unjust be resolved into fact 
against lazv, and that notion law into the command of him 
or them that have coercive pozver; and that power be de- 
rived from the wills of men that constitute such power, 
to the end they may live in peace, they may at last come 
to this, that the appetites of men and the passions of their 
minds are such, that, unless they be restrained by some 
power, they will always be making war upon one another ; 
which may be known to be so by any man's experience, 
that will but examine his own mind. And, therefore, 
from hence he may proceed, by compounding, to the de- 
termination of the justice or injustice of any propounded 
action. So that it is manifest, by what has been said, 
that the method of philosophy, to such as seek science 
simply, without propounding to themselves the solution 
of any particular question, is partly analytical, and partly 
synthetical ; namely, that which proceeds from sense to 
the invention of principles, analytical; and the rest syn- 
thetical. 



OF METHOD 55 

8. To those that seek the cause of some certain and 
propounded appearance or effect, it happens, sometimes, 
that they know not whether the thing, whose cause is 
sought after, be matter or body, or some accident of a 
body. For though in geometry, when the cause is sought 
of magnitude, or proportion, or figure, it be certainly 
known that these things, namely magnitude, proportion, 
and figure, are accidents ; yet in natural philosophy, where 
all questions are concerning the causes of the phantasms 
of sensible things, it is not so easy to discern between 
the things themselves, from which those phantasms pro- 
ceed, and the appearances of those things to the sense; 
which have deceived many, especially when the phan- 
tasms have been made by light. For example, a man 
that looks upon the sun, has a certain shining idea of the 
magnitude of about a foot over, and this he calls the sun, 
though he know the sun to be truly a great deal bigger ; 
and, in like manner, the phantasm of the same thing ap- 
pears sometimes round, by being seen afar off, and some- 
times square, by being nearer. Whereupon it may well 
be doubted, whether that phantasm be matter, or some 
body natural, or only some accident of a body; in the 
examination of which doubt we may use this method. 
The properties of matter and accidents already found 
out by us, by the synthetical method, from their defini- 
tions, are to be compared with the idea we have before us ; 
and if it agree with the properties of matter or body, then 
it is a body; otherwise it is an accident. Seeing, there- 
fore, matter cannot by any endeavor of ours be either 
made or destroyed, or increased, or diminished, or moved 
out of its place, whereas that idea appears, vanishes, is 
increased and diminished, and moved hither and thither 
at pleasure: we may certainly conclude that it is not a 
body, but an accident only. And this method is syn- 
thetical. 



56 ELEMENTS OF PHILOSOPHY 

9. But if there be a doubt made concerning the sub- 
ject of any known accident (for this may be doubted some- 
times, as in the precedent example, doubt may be made in 
what subject that splendour and apparent magnitude of 
the sun is), then our enquiry must proceed in this manner. 
First, matter in general must be divided into parts, as, 
into object, medium, and the sentient itself, or such other 
parts as seem most conformable to the thing propounded. 
Next, these parts are severally to be examined how they 
agree with the definition of the subject; and such of 
them as are not capable of that accident are to be rejected. 
For example, if by any true ratiocination the sun be 
found to be greater than its apparent magnitude, then 
that magnitude is not in the sun ; if the sun be in one de- 
termined straight line, and one determined distance, and 
the magnitude and splendour be seen in more lines and 
distances than one, as it is in reflection or refraction, then 
neither that splendour nor apparent magnitude are in the 
sun itself, and, therefore, the body of the sun cannot be 
the subject of that splendour and magnitude. And for 
the same reasons the air and other parts will be rejected, 
till at last nothing remain which can be the subject of that 
splendour and magnitude but the sentient itself. And this 
method, in regard the subject is divided into parts, is 
analytical ; and in regard the properties, both of the sub- 
ject and accident, are compared with the accident con- 
cerning whose subject the enquiry is made, it is syn- 
thetical. 

10. But when we seek after the cause of any pro- 
pounded effect, we must in the first place get into our 
mind an exact notion or idea of that which we call 
cause, namely, that a cause is the sum or aggregate of all 
such accidents, both in the agents and the patient, as con- 
cur to the producing of the effect propounded; all 



OF METHOD 57 

which existing together, it cannot be understood but 
that the effect existeth with them; or that it can possibly 
exist if any one of them be absent. 2 This being known, 
in the next place we must examine singly every acci- 
dent that accompanies or precedes the effect, as far forth 



2 On Hobbes' doctrine of causation compare the following 
selections: Elements of Philosophy. (M. I, i2of.) 

"A body is said to work upon or act, that is to say, do some- 
thing to another body, when it either generates or destroys 
some accident in it : and the body in which an accident is gen- 
erated or destroyed is said to suffer, that is, to have something 
done to it by another body; as when one body by putting for- 
wards another body generates motion in it, it is called the 
agent ; and the body in which motion is so generated, is called 
the patient ; so fire that warms the hand is the agent, and the 
hand, which is warmed, is the patient. That accident, which 
is generated in the patient, is called the effect. 

"When an agent and patient are contiguous to one an- 
other, their action and passion are then said to be immediate, 
otherwise, mediate; and when another body, lying betwixt the 
agent and patient, is contiguous to them both, it is then itself 
both an aerent and a patient ; an ae^ent in respect of the body 
next after it, upon which it works, and a patient in respect of 
the body next before it, from which it suffers. Also, if many 
bodies be so ordered that every two which are next to one an- 
other be contiguous, then all those that are betwixt the first and 
the last are both agents and patients, and the first is an agent 
only, and the last a patient only. 

"An agent is understood to produce its determined or cer- 
tain effect in the patient, according to some certain accident or 
accidents, with which both it and the patient are affected; that 
is to say, the agent hath its effect precisely such, not because 
it is a body, but because such a body, or so moved. For other- 
wise all agents, seeing they are all bodies alike, would produce 
like effects in all patients. And therefore the fire, for example, 
does not warm, because it is a body, but because it is hot ; nor 
does one body put forward another body because it is a body, 
but because it is moved into the place of that other body. The 
cause, therefore, of all effects consists in certain acci- 
dents both in the agents and in the patients ; which when they are 
all present, the effect is produced ; but if any one of them be 
wanting, it is not produced ; and that accident either of the agent 
or patient, without which the effect cannot be produced, is 
called causa sine qua non, or cause necessary by supposition, 
as also the cause requisite for the production of the effect. But 
a cause simply, or an entire cause, is the aggregate of all the ac^ 



58 ELEMENTS OF PHILOSOPHY 

as it seems to conduce in any manner to the production 
of the same, and see whether the propounded effect may 
be conceived to exist, without the existence of any of 
those accidents ; and by this means separate such acci- 
dents, as do not concur, from such as concur to produce 
the said effect ; which being done, we are to put together 
the concurring accidents, and consider whether we can 
possibly conceive, that when these are all present, the 
effect propounded will not follow ; and if it be evident 
that the effect will follow, then that aggregate of acci- 



cidents both of the agents how many soever they be, and of 
the patient, put together; which when they are all supposed to 
be present, it cannot be understood but that the effect is pro- 
duced at the same instant; and if any one of them be wanting, it 
cannot be understood but that the effect is not produced. 

"The aggregate of accidents in the agent or agents, requisite 
for the production of the effect, the effect being produced, is called 
the efficient cause thereof; and the aggregate of accidents in the 
patient, the effect being produced, is usually called the mater- 
ial cause; I say the effect being produced; for where there is 
no effect, there can be no cause; for nothing can be called a 
cause, where there is nothing that can be called an effect. But 
the efficient and material causes are both but partial causes, or 
parts of that cause, which in the next precedent article I called 
an entire cause. And from hence it is manifest, that the effect we 
expect, though the agents be not defective on their part, may 
nevertheless be frustrated by a defect in the patient; and when 
the patient is sufficient, by a defect in the agents. 

"An entire cause is always sufficient for the production of 
its effect, if the effect be at all possible. For let any effect 
whatsoever be propounded to be produced; if the same be pro- 
duced, it is manifest that the cause which produced it was a 
sufficient cause; but if it be not produced, and yet be possible, 
it is evident that something was wanting either in some agent, 
or in the patient, without which it could not be produced ; that 
is, that some accident was wanting which was requisite for its 
production; and therefore, that cause was not entire, which is 
contrary to what was supposed. 

"It follows also from hence, that in whatsoever instant the 
cause is entire, in the same instant the effect is produced. For 
if it be not produced, something is still wanting, which is 
requisite for the production of it; and therefore the cause was 
not entire, as was supposed. 



OF METHOD 59 

dents is the entire cause, otherwise not; but we must still 
search out and put together other accidents. For ex- 
ample, if the cause of light be propounded to be sought 
out; first, we examine things without us, and find 
that whensoever light appears, there is some principal 



"And seeing a necessary cause is defined to be that, which 
being supposed, the effect cannot but follow; this also may 
be collected, that whatsoever effect is produced at any time, the 
same is produced by a necessary cause. For whatsoever is pro- 
duced, in as much as it is produced, had an entire cause, that is, 
had all those things, which being supposed, it cannot be under- 
stood but that the effect follows ; that is, it had a necessary cause. 
And in the same manner it may be shewn, that whatsoever ef- 
fects are hereafter to be produced, shall have a necessary cause ; 
so that all the effects that have been, or shall be produced, have 
their necessity in things antecedent. 

"And from this, that whensoever the cause is entire, the 
effect is produced in the same instant, it is manifest that causa- 
tion and the production of effects consist in a certain continual 
progress; so that as there is a continual mutation in the agent 
or agents, by the working of other agents upon them, so also 
the patient, upon which they work, is continually altered and 
changed. For example: as the heat of the fire increases more 
and more, so also the effects thereof, namely, the heat of such 
bodies as are next to it, and again, of such other bodies as are 
next to them, increase more and more accordingly; which is 
already no little argument that all mutation consists in motion 
only; the truth whereof shall be further demonstrated in the 
ninth article. But in this progress of causation, that is, of action 
and passion, if any man comprehend in his imagination a part 
thereof, and divide the same into parts, the first part or be- 
ginning of it cannot be considered otherwise than as action or 
cause; for, if it should be considered as effect or passion, then it 
would be necessary to consider something before it, for its cause 
or action ; which cannot be, for nothing can be before the begin- 
ning. And in like manner, the last part is considered only as ef- 
fect ; for it cannot be called cause, if nothing follow it ; but after 
the last, nothing follows. And from hence it is, that in all action 
the beginning and cause are taken for the same thing. But every 
one of the intermediate parts are both action and passion, and 
cause and effect, according as they are compared with the ante- 
cedent or subsequent part. 

"There can be no cause of motion, except in a body con- 
tiguous and moved. For let there be any two bodies which are 
not contiguous, and betwixt which the intermediate space is 
empty, or, if filled, filled with another body which is at rest; 



6o ELI-MENTS OF PHILOSOPHY 

object, as it were the fountain of light, without which 
we cannot have any perception of light; and, therefore, 
the concurrence of that object is necessary to the gen- 
eration of light. Next we consider the medium, and find, 
that unless it be disposed in a certain manner, namely, 
that it be transparent, though the object remain the same, 



and let one of the propounded bodies be supposed to be at rest ; 
I say it shall always be at rest. For if it shall be moved, the 
cause of that motion, by the 8th chapter, article 19, will be some 
external body ; and, therefore, if between it and that external 
body there be nothing but empty space, then whatsoever the dis- 
position be of that external body or of the patient itself, yet if 
it be supposed to be now at rest, we may conceive it will con- 
tinue so till it be touched by some other body. But seeing cause, 
by the definition, is the aggregate of all such accidents, which 
being supposed to be present, it cannot be conceived but that the 
effect will follow, those accidents, which are either in external 
bodies, or in the patient itself, cannot be the cause of future 
motion. And in like manner, seeing we may conceive that what- 
soever is at rest will still be at rest, though it be touched by 
some other body, except that other body be moved; therefore 
in a contiguous body, which is at rest, there can be no cause of 
motion. Wherefore there is no cause of motion in any body, ex- 
cept it be contiguous and moved. 

"The same reason may serve to prove that whatsoever is 
moved, will always be moved on in the same way and with the 
same velocity, except it be hindered by some other contiguous 
and moved body ; and consequently that no bodies, either when 
they are at rest, or when there is an interposition of vacuum, 
can generate or extinguish or lessen motion in other bodies. 
There is one that has written that things moved are more re- 
sisted by things at rest, than by things contrarily moved ; for this 
reason, that he conceived motion not to be so contrary to motion 
as rest. That which deceived him was, that the words rest and 
motion are but contradictory names; whereas motion, indeed, is 
not resisted by rest, but by contrary motion. 

"But if a bodv work upon another body at one time, and af- 
terwards the same body work upon the same body at another 
time, so that both the agent and patient, and all their parts, be 
in all things as they were; and there be no difference, except 
only in time, that is, that one action be former, the other later in 
time; it is manifest of itself, that the effects will be equal and 
like, as not differing in anything besides time. And as effects 
themselves proceed from their causes, so the diversity of them 
depends upon the diversity of their causes also. 

"This being true, it is necessary that mutation can be nothing 



OF METHOD 61 

yet the effect will not follow; and, therefore, the con- 
currence of transparency is also necessary to the gener- 
ation of light. Thirdly, we observe our own body, and 
find that by the indisposition of the eyes, the brain, the 
nerves, and the heart, that is, by obstructions, stupidity, 
and debility, we are deprived of light, so that a fitting 
disposition of the organs to receive impressions from 



else but motion of the parts of that body which is changed. For 
first, we do not say anything is changed, but that which appears 
to our senses otherwise than it appeared formerly. Secondly, 
both those appearances are effects produced in the sentient ; and 
therefore, if they be different, it is necessary, by the preced- 
ing article, that either some part of the agent, which was for- 
merly at rest, is now moved, and so the mutation consists in this 
motion ; or some part, which was formerly moved, is now other- 
wise moved, and so also the mutation consists in this new mo- 
tion; or which, being formerly moved, is now at rest, which, as 
I have shewn above cannot come to pass without motion ; and 
so again, mutation is motion ; or lastly, it happens in some of 
these manners to the patient, or some of its parts ; so that muta- 
tion, howsoever it be made, will consist in the motion of the 
parts, either of the body which is perceived, or of the sentient 
body, or of both. Mutation therefore is motion, namely, of the 
parts either of the agent or of the patient; which was to be 
demonstrated. And to this it is consequent, that rest cannot 
be the cause of anything, nor can any action proceed from it; 
seeing neither motion nor mutation can be caused by it. 

"Accidents, in respect of other accidents which precede them, 
or are before them in time, and upon which they do not depend 
as upon their causes, are called contingent accidents; I say, in 
respect of those accidents by which they are not generated ; for, 
in respect of their causes, all things come to pass with equal 
necessity ; for otherwise they would have no causes at all ; which, 
of things generated, is not intelligible." 

(M. I, 130). "Some man may ask whether those future 
things, which are commonly called contingents, are necessary. I 
say, therefore, that generally all contingents have their neces- 
sary causes, * * * but are called contingents in respect of 
other events, upon which they do not depend; as the rain, which 
shall be tomorrow, shall be necessary, that is, from necessary 
causes ; but we think and say it happens by chance, because we 
do not yet perceive the causes thereof, though they exist now ; 
for men commonly call that casual or contingent, whereof thev 
do not perceive the necessary cause; and in the same manner 
they used to speak of things past, when not knowing whether ;i 



02 ELEMENTS OF PHILOSOPHY 

without is likewise a necessary part of the cause of 
light. Again, of all the accidents inherent in the ob- 
ject, there is none that can conduce to the effecting of 
light, but only action (or a certain motion), which can- 
not be conceived to be wanting, whensoever the effect is 
present; for, that anything may shine, it is not requisite 
that it be of such or such magnitude or figure, or that 
the whole body of it be moved out of the place it is in 



thing be done or no, they say it is possible it never was done." 
(M. I, 131). "The writers of metaphysics reckon up two 
other causes besides the efficient and material, namely, the es- 
sence, which some call the formal cause, and the end, or final 
cause; both which are nevertheless efficient causes. For 
when it is said the essence of a thing is the cause thereof, as to 
be rational is the cause of man, it is not intelligible; for it is 
all one, as if it were said, to be a man is the cause of man; 
which is not well said. And yet the knowledge of the essence 
of anything, is the cause of the knowledge of the thing itself; 
for, if I first know that a thing is rational, I know from thence, 
that the same is man; but this is no other than an efficient 
cause. A final cause has no place but in such things as have 
sense and will." 

(M. I, 411-412). "If [the world] had a beginning, then by 
what cause and of what matter it was made ; and again, from 
whence that cause and that matter had their being, will be new 
questions ; till at last we come to one or many eternal cause or 
causes. And the determination of all these things belongeth 
to him that professeth the universal doctrine of philosophy, in 
case as much could be known as can be sought. But the knowl- 
edge of what is infinite can never be attained by a finite in- 
quirer. Whatsoever we know that are men, we learn it from 
our phantasms ; and of infinite, whether magnitude or time, 
there is no phantasm at all ; so that it is impossible either for a 
man or any other creature to have any conception of infinite. 
And though a man may from some effect proceed to the im- 
mediate cause thereof, and from that to a more remote cause, 
and so ascend continually by right ratiocination from cause to 
cause ; yet he will not be able to proceed eternallv, but wearied 
will at last give over, without knowing whether it were possible 
for him to proceed to an end or not. * * * The questions 
therefore about the magnitude and beginning of the world, are 
not to be determined by philosophers, but by those that are law- 
fully authorized to order the worship of God. For as Almighty 
God, when he had brought his people into Judea, allowed the 



OF METHOD 63 

(unless it may perhaps be said, that in the sun, or other 
body, that which causes light is the light it hath in itself ; 
which yet is but a trifling exception, seeing nothing is 
meant thereby but the cause of light; as if any man 
should say that the cause of light is that in the sun which 
produceth it) ; it remains, therefore, thit the action, by 
which light is generated, is motion only in the parts of the 
object. Which being understood, we may easily con- 
ceive what it is the medium contributes, namely, the con- 
tinuation of that motion to the eye ; and, lastly, what the 
eye and the rest of the organs of the sentient contrib- 
ute, namely, the continuation of the same motion to the 
last organ of sense, the heart. And in this manner the 
cause of light may be made up of motion continued from 
the original of the same motion, to the original of vital 
motion, light being nothing but the alteration of vital 



priests the first fruits reserved to himself; so when he had de- 
livered up the world to the disputations of men, it was his pleas- 
ure that all opinions concerning the nature of infinite and eter- 
nal, known only to himself, should, as the first fruits of wis- 
dom, be judged by those whose ministry he meant to use in the 
ordering of religion." "Human Nature. (M. IV, 59). "Foras- 
much as God Almighty is incomprehensible, it followeth, that we 
can have no conception or image of the Deity, and consequently, 
all his attributes signify our inability and defect of power to con- 
ceive anything concerning his nature, and not any conception of 
the same, excepting only this, that there is a God: for the effects 
we acknowledge naturally, do include a power of their pro- 
ducing, before they were produced; and that power presuppos- 
eth something existent that hath such power: and the thing so 
existing with power to produce, if it were not eternal, must needs 
have been produced by somewhat before it, and that again by 
something else before that, till we come to an eternal, that is 
to say, the first power of all powers, and first cause of all causes: 
and this is it which all men conceive by the name of God, imply- 
ing eternity, incomprehensibility, and omnipotency. And thus all 
that will consider, may know that God is, though not what he is : 
even a man that is born blind, though it be not possible for him 
to have any imagination what kind of thing fire is ; yet he can- 
not but know that somewhat there is that men call fire, because 
it warmeth him." 



64 ELEMENTS OF PHILOSOPHY 

motion, made by the impression upon it of motion contin- 
ued from the object. But I give this only for an ex- 
ample, for I shall speak more at large of light, and the 
generation of it, in its proper place. In the mean time 
it is manifest, that in the searching out of causes, there 
is need partly of the analytical, and partly of the synthet- 
ical method ; of the analytical, to conceive how circum- 
stances conduce severally to the production of effects; 
and of the synthetical, for the adding together and com- 
pounding of what they can effect singly by themselves. 
And thus much may serve for the method of invention. 
It remains that I speak of the method of teaching, that 
is, of demonstration, and of the means by which we 
demonstrate. 

ii. In the method of invention, the use of words 
consists in this, that they may serve for marks, by which 
whatsoever we have found out may be recalled to mem- 
ory; for without this all our inventions perish, nor will 
it be possible for us to go on from principles beyond a syl- 
logism or two, by reason of the weakness of memory. For 
example, if any man, by considering a triangle set be- 
fore him should find that all its angles together taken 
are equal to two right angles, and that by thinking of the 
same tacitly, without any use of words either understood 
or expressed; and it should happen afterwards that an- 
other triangle, unlike the former, or the same in differ- 
ent situation, should be offered to his consideration, he 
would not know readily whether the same property were 
in this last or no, but would be forced, as often as a dif- 
ferent triangle were brought before him (and the differ- 
ence of triangles is infinite) to begin his contemplation 
anew; which he would have no need to do if he had 
the use of names, for every universal name denotes the 
conceptions we have of infinite singular things. Never- 



OF METHOD 65 

theless, as I said above, they serve as marks for the help 
of our memory, whereby we register to ourselves our 
own inventions ; but not as signs by which we declare the 
same to others ; so that a man may be a philosopher 
alone by himself, without any master; Adam had this 
capacity. But to teach, that is, to demonstrate, supposes 
two at the least, and syllogistical speech. 

12. And seeing teaching is nothing but leading the 
mind of him we teach, to the knowledge of our inven- 
tions, in that track by which we attained the same with 
our own mind; therefore, the same method that served 
for our invention, will serve also for demonstration to 
others, saving that we omit the first part of method 
which proceeded from the, sense of things to universal 
principles, which, because they are principles, cannot be 
demonstrated ; and seeing they are known by nature, (as 
was said above in the 5th article) they need no demon- 
stration, though they need explication. The whole meth- 
od, therefore, of demonstration, is synthetical, consisting 
of that order of speech which begins from primary or 
most universal propositions, which are manifest of them- 
selves, and proceeds by a perpetual composition of prop- 
ositions into syllogisms, till at last the learner understand 
the truth of the conclusion sought after. 

13. Now, such principles are 'nothing but defini- 
tions, 3 whereof there are two sorts ; one of names, 
that signify such things as have some conceivable cause, 
and another of such names as signify things of which 
we can conceive no cause at all. Names of the former 



3 Compare the following from Philosophical Rudiments, 
(M. II, 305). "The explication of words, whereby the matter en- 
quired after is propounded, is conducible to knowledge; nay, the 
only way to know, is by definition." 



66 ELEMENTS OF PHILOSOPHY 

kind are, body, or matter, quantity, or extension, mo- 
tion, and whatsoever is common to all matter. Of the 
second kind, are such a body, such and so great motion, 
so great magnitude, such figure, and whatsoever we can 
distinguish one body from another by. And names of 
the former kind are well enough defined, when, by 
speech as short as may be, we raise in the mind of the 
hearer perfect and clear ideas or conceptions of the things 
named, as when we define motion to be the leaving of 
one place, and the acquiring of another continually; 
for though no thing moved, nor any cause of motion be 
in that definition, yet, at the hearing of that speech, there 
will come into the mind of the hearer an idea of motion 
clear enough. But definitions of things, which may be 
understood to have some cause, must consist of such 
names as express the cause or manner of their generation, 
as when we define a circle to be a figure made by the cir- 
cumduction of a straight line in a plane, &c. Besides 
definitions, there is no other proposition that ought to be 
called primary, or (according to severe truth) be re- 
ceived into the number of principles. 4 For those 
axioms of Euclid, seeing they may be demonstrated, are 
no principles of demonstration, though they have by the 
consent of all men gotten the authority of principles, be- 
cause they need not be demonstrated. Also, those peti- 



4 Compare the following from Elements of Philosophy, (M. 
I, $6). "Primary [proposition] is that wherein the subject is 
explicated by a predicate of many names, as man is a body, an- 
imated, rational; for that which is comprehended in the name 
man, is more largely expressed in the names body, animated, and 
rational, joined together; and it is called primary, because it is 
first in ratiocination; for nothing canbe proved, without under- 
standing first the name of the thing in question. Now primary 
propositions are nothing but definitions, or parts of definitions, 
and these only are the principles of demonstration, being truths 
constituted arbitrarily by the inventors of speech, and therefore 
not to be demonstrated." 



OF METHOD (# 

tions, or postulata, (as they call them) though they be 
principles, yet they are not principles of demonstration, 
but of construction only; that is, not of science, but of 
power; or (which is all one) not of theorems, which are 
speculations, but of problems, which belong to practice, 
or the doing of something. But as for those common 
received opinions, Nature abhors vacuity, Nature doth 
nothing in vain, and the like, which are neither evident 
in themselves, nor at all to be demonstrated, and which 
are oftener false than true, they are much less to be ac- 
knowledged for principles. 

To return, therefore, to definitions; the reason why 
I say that the cause and generation of such things, as 
have any cause or generation, ought to enter into their 
definitions, is this. The end of science is the demonstra- 
tion of the causes and generations of things; which if 
they be not in the definitions, they cannot be found in the 
conclusion of the first syllogism, that is made from those 
definitions ; and if they be not in the first conclusion, they 
will not be found in any further conclusion deduced from 
that; and, therefore, by proceeding in this manner, we 
shall never come to science ; which is against the scope 
and intention of demonstration. 5 

14. Now, seeing definitions (as I have said) are 
principles, or primary propositions, they are therefore 
speeches ; and seeing they are used for the raising of an 
idea of some thing in the mind of the learner, whenso- 
ever that thing has a name, the definition of it can be 



5 Compare the following from Six Lessons, etc. (M. VII, 
212). "Of true and evident definitions, the best are those which 
declare the cause or generation of that subject, whereof the 
proper passions are to be demonstrated. For science is that 
knowledge which is derived from the comprehension of the 
cause." 



68 ELEMENTS OF PHILOSOPHY 

nothing but the explication of that name by speech ; and 
if that name be given it for some compounded conception, 
the definition is nothing but a resolution of that name 
into its most universal parts. As when we define man, 
saying man is a body animated, sentient, rational, those 
names, body animated, &c. are parts of that whole name 
man; so that definitions of this kind always consist of 
genus and difference; the former names being all, till 
the last, general; and the last of all, difference. But if 
any name be the most universal in its kind, then the 
definition of it cannot consist of genus and difference, 
but is to be made by such circumlocution, as best expli- 
cateth the force of that name. Again, it is possible, and 
happens often, that the genus and difference are put to- 
gether, and yet make no definition; as these words, a 
straight line, contain both the genus and difference; but 
are not a definition, unless we should think a straight line 
may be thus defined, a straight line is a straight line: and 
yet if there were added another name, consisting of dif- 
ferent words, but signifying the same thing which these 
signify, then these might be the definition of that name. 
From what has been said, it may be understood how a 
definition ought to be defined, namely, that it is a propo- 
sition, whose predicate resolves the subject, when it may; 
and when it may not, it exemplifies the same. 



c Compare the following from Questions concerning Lib- 
erty, etc. (M. V, 370-371). "A right definition is that which de- 
termineth the signification of the word defined, to the end that 
in the discourse where it is used, the meaning of it may be con- 
stant and without equivocation. This is the measure of a defini- 
tion, and intelligible to an English reader. But the Bishop, that 
measures it by the genus and the difference, thinks, it seems, 
though he write English, he writes not to an English reader unless 
he also be a Schoolman. I confess the rule is good, that we 
ought to define, when it can be done, by using first some more 
general term, and then by restraining the signification of that 
general term, till it be the same with that of the word defined. 



OF METHOD 69 

15. The properties of a definition are: 

First, that it takes away equivocation, as also all that 
multitude of distinctions, which are used by such as think 
they may learn philosophy by disputation. For the nature 
of a definition is to define, that is, to determine the signi- 
fication of the defined name, and to pare from it all other 
signification besides what is contained in the definition 
itself; and therefore one definition does as much, as all 
the distinctions (how many soever) that can be used 
about the name defined. 

Secondly, that it gives an universal notion of the thing 
defined, representing a certain universal picture thereof, 
not to the eye, but to the mind. For as when one paints a 
man, he paints the image of some man ; so he, that defines 
the name man, makes a representation of some man to the 
mind. 

Thirdly, that it is not necessary to dispute whether 
definitions are to be admitted or no. For when a master 
is instructing his scholar, if the scholar understand all the 
parts of the thing defined, which are resolved in the def- 
inition, and yet will not admit of the definition, there 
needs no further controversy betwixt them, it being 
all one as if he refused to be taught. But if he 
understand nothing, then certainly the definition is faulty ; 
for the nature of a definition consists in this, that it ex- 
hibit a clear idea of the thing defined ; and principles are 
either known by themselves, or else they are not prin- 
ciples. 

Fourthly, that, in philosophy, definitions are before de- 



And this general term the School calls genus, and the restraint 
difference. This, I say, is a good rule where it can be done; for 
some words are so general, that they cannot admit a more gen- 
eral in their definition." 



70 ELEMENTS OF PHILOSOPHY 

fined names. For in teaching philosophy, the first begin- 
ning is from definitions ; and all progression in the same, 
till we come to the knowledge of the thing compounded, 
is compositive. Seeing, therefore, definition is the expli- 
cation of a compounded name by resolution, and the pro- 
gression is from the parts to the compound, definitions 
must be understood before compounded names; nay, 
when the names of the parts of any speech be expli- 
cated, it is not necessary that the definition should be a 
name compounded of them. For example, when these 
names, equilateral, quadrilateral, right-angled, are suf- 
ficiently understood, it is not necessary in geometry that 
there should be at all sudi a name as square ; for defined 
names are received in philosophy for brevity's sake only. 

Fifthly, that compounded names, which are defined 
one way in some one part of philosophy, may in another 
part of the same be otherwise defined ; as a parabola and 
an hyperbole have one definition in geometry, and another 
in rhetoric ; for definitions are instituted and serve for the 
understanding of the doctrine which is treated of. And, 
therefore, as in one part of philosophy, a definition may 
have in it some one fit name for the more brief explana- 
tion of some proposition in geometry ; so it may have the 
same liberty in other parts of philosophy; for the use of 
names is particular (even where many agree to the set- 
of them) and arbitrary. 

Sixthly, that no name can be defined by any one word ; 
because no one word is sufficient for the resolving of one 
or more words. 

Seventhly, that a defined name ought not to be repeat- 
ed in the definition. For a defined name is the whole 
compound, and a definition is the resolution of that com- 
pound into parts ; but no total can be part of itself. 

1 6. Any two definitions, that may be compounded 
into a syllogism, produce a conclusion; which, because it is 



OF METHOD ji 

derived from principles, that is, from definitions, is said 
to be demonstrated; and the derivation or composition 
itself is called a demonstration. In like manner, if a syl- 
logism be made of two propositions, whereof one is a defi- 
nition, the other a demonstrated conclusion, or neither of 
them is a definition, but both formerly demonstrated, that 
syllogism is also called a demonstration, and so succes- 
sively. The definition therefore of a demonstration is 
this, a demonstration is a syllogism, or series of syllo- 
gisms, derived and continued, from the definitions of 
names, to the last conclusion. And from hence it may 
be understood, that all true ratiocination, which taketh its 
beginning from true principles, produceth science, and 
is true demonstration. For as for the original of 
the name, although that, which the Greeks called 
&ttod£i£i<: % and the Latins demonstration was understood 
by them for that sort only of ratiocination, in which, by 
the describing of certain lines and figures, they placed the 
thing they were to prove, as it were before men's eyes, 
which is properly dLxodsixvveiv % or to shew by the figure ; 
yet they seem to have done it for this reason, that unless 
it were in geometry, (in which only there is place for 
such figures) there was no ratiocination certain, and end- 
ing in science, their doctrines concerning all other things 
being nothing but controversy and clamour ; which, nev- 
ertheless, happened, not because the truth to which they 
pretended could not be made evident without figures, but 
because they wanted true principles, from which they 
might derive their ratiocination; and, therefore, there is 
no reason but that if true definitions were pre- 
mised in all sorts of doctrines, the demonstrations also 
would be true. 7 



7 Compare the following from Six Lessons, etc. (M. VII, 
183-184). "Of arts, some are demonstrable, others indemonstra- 



72 ELEMENTS OF PHILOSOPHY 

17. It is proper to methodical demonstration, 

First, that there be a true succession of one reason to 
another, according to the rules of syllogizing delivered 
above. 

Secondly, that the premises of all syllogisms be dem- 
onstrated from the first definitions. 8 

Thirdly, that after definitions, he that teaches or dem- 
onstrates any thing, proceed in the same method by which 
he found it out; namely, that in the first place those 
things be demonstrated, which immediately succeed to uni- 
versal definitions (in which is contained that part of 
philosophy which is called philosophia prima). 9 Next, 



ble; and demonstrable are those the construction of the subject 
whereof is in the power of the artist himself, who, in his demon- 
stration, does no more but deduce the consequences of his own 
operation. The reason whereof is this, that the science of every 
subject is derived from a precognition of the causes, generation, 
and construction of the same; and consequently where the 
causes are known, there is place for demonstration, but not 
where the causes are to seek for. Geometry therefore is demon- 
strable, for the lines and fieures from which we reason are 
drawn and described by ourselves; and civil philosophy is 
demonstrable, because we make the commonwealth ourselves. 
But because of natural bodies we know not the construction, but 
seek it from the effects, there lies no demonstration of what the 
causes be we seek for, but only of that what they may be." 

8 Compare the f llowing from Six Lessons, ec. (M. VII, 
211-212). "There be but two causes from which can spring an 
error in the demonstration of any conclusion in any science 
whatsoever; and those are ignorance or want of understanding, 
and negligence. For as in the adding together of many and 
great numbers, he cannot fail that knoweth the rules of addition, 
and is also all the way so careful, as not to mistake one num- 
ber or one place for another ; so in any other science, he that is 
perfect in the rules of logic, and is so watchful over his pen, as 
not to put one word for another, can never fail of making a true, 
though not perhaps the shortest and easiest demonstration. The 
rules of demonstration are but of two kinds : one, that the prin- 
ciples be true and evident definitions ; the other, that the infer- 
ences be necessary." 

6 Compare the following from the Leviathan. (M. Ill, 
671). "There is a certain philosophia prima, on which all 



OF METHOD 73 

those things which may be demonstrated by simple motion 
(in which geometry consists). After geometry, such 
things as may be taught or shewed by manifest action, 
that is, by thrusting from, or pulling towards. And after 
these, the motion or mutation of the invisible parts of 
things, and the doctrine of sense and imaginations, and of 
the internal passions, especially those of men, in which 
are comprehended the grounds of civil, duties, or civil 
philosophy ; which takes up tKe last place. And that this 
method ought to be kept in all sorts of philosophy, is evi- 
dent from hence, that such things as I have said are to 
be taught last, cannot be demonstrated, till such as are 
propounded to be first treated of, be fully understood. 
Of which method no other example can be given, but that 
treatise of the elements of philosophy, which I shall be- 
gin in the next chapter, and continue to the end of the 
work. 



other philosophy ought to depend; and consisteth principally, in 
right limiting of the significations of such appellations, or 
names, as are of all others the most universal ; which limitations 
serve to avoid ambiguity and equivocation in reasoning; and are 
commonly called definitions ; such as are the definitions of body, 
time, place, matter, form, essence, subject, substance, accident, 
power, act, finite, infinite, quantity, quality, motion, action, pas- 
sion, and divers others, necessary to the explaining of a man's 
conceptions concerning the nature and generation of bodies." 
Also the following from Six Questions, etc. (M. VII, 226). 
"Words understood are but the seed, and no part of the har- 
vest of philosophy. And this seed was it, which Aristotle went 
about to sow in his twelve books of metaphysics, and in his eight 
books concerning the hearing of natural philosophy. And in 
these books he defineth time, place, substance or essence, quan- 
tity, relation, &c, that from thence might be taken the definitions 
of_ the most general words for principles in the several parts of 
science. So that all definitions proceed from common under- 
standing; of which, if any man rightly write, he may properly 
call his writing philosophia prima, that is, the seeds, or the 
grounds of philosophy. And this is the method I have used, de- 
fining place, magnitude, and the other the most general appella- 
tions in that part which I entitle philosophia prima." That is, 
in the part entitled Elements of Philosophy or De Corpore. 



74 ELEMENTS OF PHILOSOPHY 

18. Besides those paralogisms, whose fault lies either 
in the falsity of the premises, or the want of true com- 
position, of which I have spoken in the precedent chapter, 
there are two more, which are frequent in demonstration ; 
one whereof is commonly called petitio principii; 
the other is the supposing of a false cause; and 
these do not only deceive unskilful learners, but 
sometimes masters themselves, by making them 
take that for well demonstrated, which is not 
demonstrated at all. Petitio principii is, when the 
conclusion to be proved is disguised in other words, and 
put for the definition or principle from whence it is to 
be demonstrated; and thus, by putting for the cause of 
the thing sought, either the thing itself or some effect of 
it, they make a circle in their demonstration. As for ex- 
ample, he that would demonstrate that the earth stands 
still in the center of the world, and should suppose the 
earth's gravity to be the cause thereof, and define 
gravity to be a quality by which every heavy body 
tends towards the center of the world, would lose his la- 
bour ; for the question is, what is the cause of that quali- 
ty in the earth? and, therefore, he that supposes gravity 
to be the cause, puts the thing itself for its own cause. 

Of a false cause I find this example in a certain treatise 
where the thing to be demonstrated is the motion of the 
earth. He begins, therefore, with this, that seeing the 
earth and the sun are not always in the same situation, 
it must needs be that one of them be locally moved, which 
is true; next, he affirms that the vapours, which the sun 
raises from the earth and sea, are, by reason of this mo- 
tion, necessarily moved, which also is true ; from whence 
he infers the winds are made, and this may pass for grant- 
ed ; and by these winds he says, the waters of the sea are 
moved, and by their motion the bottom of the sea, as if it 



OF METHOD 75 

were beaten forwards, moves round ; and let this also be 
granted ; wherefore, he concludes, the earth is moved ; 
which is, nevertheless, a paralogism. For, if that wind 
were the cause why the earth was, from the beginning, 
moved round, and the motion either of the sun or the 
earth were the cause of that wind, then the motion of the 
sun or the earth was before the wind itself; and if the 
earth were moved, before the wind was made, then the 
wind could not be the cause of the earth's revolution ; but, 
if the sun were moved, and the earth stand still, then it is 
manifest the earth might remain unmoved, notwithstand- 
ing that wind ; and therefore that motion was not made by 
the cause which he allegeth. But paralogisms of this 
kind are very frequent among the writers of physics, 
though none can be more elaborate than this in the ex- 
ample given. 

19. It may to some men seem pertinent to treat in this 
place of that art of the geometricians, which they call 
logistica, that is, the art, by which, from supposing the 
thing in question to be true, they proceed by ratiocination, 
till either they come to something known, by which they 
may demonstrate the truth of the thing sought for ; or to 
something which is impossible, from whence they collect 
that to be false, which they supposed true. But this art 
cannot be explicated here, for this reason, that the meth- 
od of it can neither be practised, nor understood, unless 
by such as are well versed in geometry ; and among geo- 
metricians themselves, they, that have most theorems in 
readiness, are the most ready in the use of this logistica; 
so that, indeed, it is not a distinct thing from geometry 
itself; for there are, in the method of it, three parts; 
the first whereof consists in the finding out of equality be- 
twixt known and unknown things, which they call equa- 
tion ; and this equation cannot be found out, but by such 



76 ELEMENTS OF PHILOSOPHY 

as know perfectly the nature, properties, and transposi- 
tions of proportion, as also the addition, subtraction, mul- 
tiplication, and division of lines and superficies, and the 
extraction of roots ; which are the parts of no mean geo- 
metrician. The second is, when an equation is found, 
to be able to judge whether the truth or falsity of the 
question may be deduced from it, or no ; which yet re- 
quires greater knowledge. And the third is, when such 
an equation is found, as is fit for the solution of the ques- 
tion, to know how to resolve the same in such manner, 
that the truth or falsity may thereby manifestly appear; 
which, in hard questions, cannot be done without the 
knowledge of the nature of crooked-lined figures ; but he 
that understands readily the nature and properties of 
these, is a complete geometrician. It happens besides, 
that for the finding out of equations, there is no certain 
method, but he is best able to do it, that has the best nat- 
ural wit. 




■>■*£"■ 








SELECTIONS FROM 



LEVIATHAN 



OR 



THE MATTER, FORM, AND POWER 



OF A 



COMMONWEALTH 



ECCLESIASTICAL AND CIVIL 



THE EPISTLE DEDICATORY. 



TO MY MOST HONOR D FRIEND 

MR. FRANCIS GODOLPHIN, 
of godolphin. 

Honored Sir, 
Your most worthy brother, Mr. Sidney Godolphin, 
when he lived, was pleased to think my studies some- 
thing, and otherwise to oblige me, as you know, with 
real testimonies of his good opinion, great in them- 
selves, and the greater for the worthiness of his person. 
For there is not any virtue that disposeth a man, either 
to the service of God, or to the service of his country, 
to civil society, or private friendship, that did not man- 
ifestly appear in his conversation, not as acquired by 
necessity, or affected upon occasion, but inherent, and 
shining in a generous constitution of his nature. There- 
fore, in honour and gratitude to him, and with devo- 
tion to yourself, I humbly dedicate unto you this my 
discourse of Commonwealth. I know not how the 
world will receive it, nor how it may reflect on those 
that shall seem to favour it. For in a way beset with 
those that contend, on one side for too great liberty, 
and on the other side for too much authority, 'tis hard 
to pass between the points of both unwounded. But 
yet, methinks, the endeavour to advance the civil power, 
should not be by the civil power condemned ; nor private 
men, by reprehending it, declare they think that power 
too great. Besides, I speak not of the men, but, in the 



80 LEVIATHAN 

abstract, of the seat of power, (like to those simple and 
impartial creatures in the Roman Capitol, that with their 
noise defended those within it, not because they were 
they, but there), offending none, I think, but those with- 
out, or such within, if there be any such, as favour them. 
That which perhaps may most offend, are certain texts 
of Holy Scripture, alleged by me to other purpose than 
ordinarily they use to be by others. But I have done it 
with due submission, and also, in order to my subject, 
necessarily ; for they are the outworks of the enemy, from 
whence they impugn the civil power. If notwithstand- 
ing this, you find my labour generally decried, you may 
be pleased to excuse yourself, and say, I am a man that 
love my own opinions, and think all true I say, that I 
honoured your brother, and honour you, and have pre- 
sumed on that, to assume the title, without your knowl- 
edge, of being, as I am, 
Sir, 
Your most humble, 

and most obedient Servant, 

Thomas Hobbes, 
Paris, April ££, 165 1. 



THE 

INTRODUCTION. 

Nature, the art whereby God hath made and governs 
the world, is by the art of man, as in many other things, 
so in this also imitated, that it can make an artificial 
animal. For seeing life is but a motion of limbs, the 
beginning whereof is in some principal part within; 
why may we not say, that all automata (engines that 
move themselves by springs and wheels as doth a watch) 
have an artificial life? For what is the heart, but a 
spring; and the nerves, but so many strings; and the 
joints, but so many wheels, giving motion to the whole 
body, such as was intended by the artificer? Art goes 
yet further, imitating that rational and most excellent 
work of nature, man. For by art is created that great 
Leviathan called a Commonwealth, or State, in 
Latin Civitas, which is but an artificial man; though 
of greater stature and strength than the natural, for 
whose protection and defence it was intended; and in 
which the sovereignty is an artificial soul, as giving life 
and motion to the whole body; the magistrates, and 
other officers of judicature and execution, artificial joints; 
reward and punishment, by which fastened to the seat of 
the sovereignty every joint and member is moved to per- 
form his duty, are the nerves, that do the same in the 
body natural ; the wealth and riches of all the particular 
members, are the strength; salus populi, the people's 
safety, its business; counsellors, by whom all things need- 
ful for it to know are suggested unto it, are the memory; 
equity, and laws, an artificial reason and will; concord, 



82 LEVIATHAN 

health; sedition, sickness; and civil war, death. Lastly, 
the pacts and covenants, by which the parts of this body 
politic were at first made, set together, and united, re- 
semble that Hat, or the let us make man, pronounced by 
God in the creation. 

To describe the nature of this artificial man, I will 
consider 

First, the matter thereof, and the artificer; both which 
is man. 

Secondly, how, and by what covenants it is made; 
what are the rights and just power or authority of a sov- 
ereign; and what it is that preserveth or dissolveth it. 

Thirdly, what is a Christian commonwealth. 

Lastly, what is the kingdom of darkness. 

Concerning the first, there is a saying much usurped 
of late, that wisdom is acquired, not by reading of books, 
but of men. Consequently whereunto, those persons, 
that for the most part can give no other proof of being 
wise, take great delight to show what they think they 
have read in men, by uncharitable censures of one an- 
other behind their backs. But there is another saying 
not of late understood, by which they might learn truly 
to read one another, if they would take the pains; that 
is, nosce teipsum, read thyself: which was not meant, 
as it is now used, to countenance, either the barbarous 
state of men in power, towards their inferiors ; or to en- 
courage men of low degree, to a saucy behaviour to- 
wards their betters; but to teach us, that for the simili- 
tude of the thoughts and passions of one man, to the 
thoughts and passions of another, whosoever looketh in- 
to himself, and considereth what he doth, when he does 
think, opine, reason, hope, fear, &c. and upon what 
grounds ; he shall thereby read and know, what are the 
thoughts and passions of all other men upon the like oc- 



INTRODUCTION 83 

casions. I say the similitude of passions, which are the 
same in all men, desire, fear, hope, &c ; not the similitude 
of the objects of the passions, which are the things de- 
sired, feared, hoped, &c: for these the constitution indi- 
vidual, and particular education, do so vary, and they are 
so easy to be kept from our knowledge, that the charac- 
ters of man's heart,' blotted and confounded as they are 
with dissembling, lying, counterfeiting, and erroneous 
doctrines, are legible only to him that searcheth hearts. 
And though by men's actions we do discover their design 
sometimes; yet to do it without comparing them with 
our own, and distinguishing all circumstances, by which 
the case may come to be altered, is to decypher without 
a key, and be for the most part deceived, by too much 
trust, or by too much diffidence ; as he that reads, is him- 
self a good or evil man. 

But let one man read another by his actions never so 
perfectly, it serves him only with his acquaintance, which 
are but few. He that is to govern a whole nation, must 
read in himself, not this or that particular man; but 
mankind: which though it be hard to do, harder than 
to learn any language or science ; yet when I shall have 
set down my own reading orderly, and perspicuously, 
the pains left another, will be only to consider, if he also 
find not the same in himself. For this kind of doctrine 
admitteth no other demonstration. 



PART I. 

OF MAN 



CHAPTER I. 

OF SENSE. 

Concerning the thoughts of man, I will consider them 
first singly, and afterwards in train, or dependence upon 
one another. Singly, they are every one a representation 
or appearance, of some quality, or other accident of a 
body without us, which is commonly called an object. 
Which object worketh on the eyes, ears, and other parts 
of a man's body ; and by diversity of working, produceth 
diversity of appearances. 

The original of them all, is that which we call sense, 
for there is no conception in a man's mind, which hath 
not at first, totally or by parts, been begotten upon the or- 
gans of sense. The rest are derived from that original. 

To know the natural cause of sense, is not very nec- 
essary to the business now in hand; and I have else- 
where written of the same at large. Nevertheless, to fill 
each part of my present method, I will briefly deliver the 
same in this place. 

The cause of sense, is the external body, or object, 
which presseth the organ proper to each sense, either 
immediately, as in the taste and touch ; or mediately, as in 
seeing, hearing, and smelling; which pressure, by the 
mediation of the nerves, and other strings and mem- 
branes of the body, continued inwards to the brain and 



OF SENSE 85 

heart, causeth there a resistance, or counter-pressure, or 
endeavour of the heart to deliver itself, which endeavour, 
because outward, seemeth to be some matter without. 
And this seeming, or fancy, is that which men call 
sense; and consisteth, as to the eye, in a light, or 
colour figured; to the ear, in a sound; to the nostril, in 
an odour; to the tongue and palate, in a savour; and to 
the rest of the body, in heat, cold, hardness, softness, and 
such other qualities as we discern by feeling. All which 
qualities, called sensible, are in the object, that causeth 
them, but so many several motions of the matter, by 
which it presseth our organs diversely. Neither in us 
that are pressed, are they any thing else, but divers mo- 
tions ; for motion produceth nothing but motion. But their 
appearance to us is fancy, the same waking, that dream- 
ing. And as pressing, rubbing, or striking the eye, makes 
us fancy a light ; and pressing the ear, produceth a din ; 
so do the bodies also we see, or hear, produce the same 
by their strong, though unobserved action. For if those 
colours and sounds were in the bodies, or objects that 
cause them, they could not be severed from them, as by 
glasses, and in echoes by reflection, we see they are; 
where we know the thing we see is in one place, the ap- 
pearance in another. And though at some certain distance, 
the real and very object seem invested with the fancy it 
begets in us; yet still the object is one thing, the image 
or fancy is another. So that sense, in all cases, is nothing 
else but original fancy, caused, as I have said, by the pres- 
sure, that is, by the motion, of external things upon our 
eyes, ears, and other organs thereunto ordained. 

But the philosophy-schools, through all the universi- 
ties of Christendom, grounded upon certain texts of 
Aristotle, teach another doctrine, and say, for the cause 
of vision, that the thing seen, sendeth forth on every side 



86 LEVIATHAN 

a visible species, in English, a visible show, apparition, 
or aspect, or a being seen; the receiving whereof into the 
eye is seeing. And for the cause of hearing, that the thing 
heard, sendeth forth an audible species, that is an audible 
aspect, or audible being seen; which entering at the ear 
maketh hearing. Nay, for the cause of understanding 
also, they say the thing understood, sendeth forth an 
intelligible species, that is, an intelligible being seen; 
which, coming into the understanding, makes us under- 
stand. I say not this, as disproving the use of universi- 
ties ; but because I am to speak hereafter of their office in 
a commonwealth, I must let you see on all occasions by 
the way, what things would be amended in them ; amongst 
which the frequency of insignificant speech is one. 

1. SUPPLEMENT FROM 

ELEMENTS OF PHILOSOPHY, 

CHAPTER XXV. 

Of all the phenomena or appearances which are near 
us, the most admirable is apparition itself, to <faivz<;&ai\ 
namely, that some natural bodies have in themselves the 
patterns almost of all things, and others of none at all. So 
that if the appearances be the principles by which we know 
all other things, we must needs acknowledge sense to be 
the principle by which we know those principles, and 
that all the knowledge we have is derived from it. And 
as for the causes of sense, we cannot begin our search of 
them from any other phenomenon than that of sense itself. 
But you will say, by what sense shall we take notice of 
sense? I answer, by sense itself, namely, by the memory 
which for some time remains in us of things sensible, 
though they themselves pass away. For he that perceives 
that he hath perceived, remembers. 



OF SENSE 87 

In the first place, therefore, the causes of our percep- 
tion, that is, the causes of those ideas and phantasms 
which are perpetually generated within us whilst we 
make use of our senses, are to be enquired into; and in 
what manner their generation proceeds. To help which 
inquisition, we may observe first of all, that our phantasms 
or ideas are not always the same; but that new ones 
appear to us, and old ones vanish, according as we apply 
our organs of sense, now to one object, now to another. 
Wherefore they are generated and perish. And from 
hence it is manifest, that they are some change or muta- 
tion in the sentient. 

Now that all mutation or alteration is motion or en- 
deavour (and endeavour also is motion) in the internal 
parts of the thing that is altered, hath been proved 
from this, that whilst even the least parts of any body 
remain in the same situation in respect of one another, it 
cannot be said that any alteration, unless perhaps that 
the whole body together hath been moved, hath happened 
to it; but that it both appeareth and is the same it ap- 
peared and was before. Sense, therefore, in the sentient, 
can be nothing else but motion in some of the internal 
parts of the sentient; and the parts so moved are parts 
of the organs of sense. For the parts of our body, by 
which we perceive anything, are those we commonly call 
the organs of sense. And so we find what is the subject 
of our sense, namely, that in which are the phantasms; 
and partly also we have discovered the nature of sense, 
namely, that it is some internal motion in the sentient. 

I have shown besides that no motion is generated but 
by a body contiguous and moved: from whence it is 
manifest, that the immediate cause of sense or percep- 
tion consists in this, that the first organ of sense is touched 
and pressed. For when the uttermost part of the organ 



88 , LEVIATHAN 

is pressed, it no sooner yields, but the part next within 
it is pressed also; and, in this manner, the pressure or 
motion is propagated through all the parts of the organ 
to the innermost. And thus also the pressure of the 
uttermost part proceeds from the pressure of some more 
remote body, and so continually, till we come to that 
from which, as from its fountain, we derive the phan- 
tasm or idea that is made in us by our sense- And this, 
whatsoever it be, is that we commonly call the object. 
Sense, therefore, is some internal motion in the sentient, 
generated by some internal motion of the parts of the 
object, and propagated through all the media to the inner- 
most part of the organ. By which words I have almost 
defined what sense is. 

Moreover, I have shown that all resistance is endeavour 
opposite to another endeavour, that is to say, reaction. 
Seeing, therefore, there is in the whole organ, by reason 
of its own internal natural motion, some resistance or re- 
action against the motion which is propagated from the 
object to the innermost part of the organ, there is also in 
the same organ an endeavour opposite to the endeavour 
which proceeds from the object; so that when that en- 
deavour inwards is the last action in the act of sense, then 
from the reaction, how little soever the duration of it 
be, a phantasm or idea hath its being; which, by reason 
that the endeavour is now outwards, doth always appear 
as something situate without the organ. So that now I 
shall give you the whole definition of sense, as it is drawn 
from the explication of the causes thereof and the order 
of its generation, thus: sense is a phantasm, made by 
the reaction and endeavour outivards in the organ of sense, 
caused by an endeavour inwards from the object, remain- 
ing for some time more or less. 

The subject of sense is the sentient itself, namely, 



OF SENSE 89 

some living creature ; and we speak more correctly, when 
we say a living creature seeth, than when we say the 
eye seeth. The object is the thing received; and it 
is more accurately said, that we see the sun, than that we 
see the light. For light and colour, and heat and sound, 
and other qualities which are commonly called sensible, 
are not objects, but phantasms in the sentients. For a 
phantasm is the act of sense, and differs no otherwise 
from sense than fieri, that is, being a doing, differs from 
factum esse, that is, being done; which difference, in 
things that are done in an instant, is none at all; and a 
phantasm is made in an instant. For in all motion which 
proceeds by perpetual propagation, the first part being 
moved moves the second, the second the third, and so on 
to the last, and that to any distance, how great soever. 
And in what point of time the first or foremost part pro- 
ceeded to the place of the second, which is thrust on, in the 
same point of time the last save one proceeded into the 
place of the last yielding part ; which by reaction, in the 
same instant, if the reaction be strong enough, makes a 
phantasm; and a phantasm being made, perception is 
made together with it. 

The organs of sense, which are in the sentient, are 
such parts thereof, that if they be hurt, the very genera- 
tion of phantasms is thereby destroyed, though all the rest 
of the parts remain entire. Now these parts in the most 
of living creatures are found to be certain spirits and 
membranes, which, proceeding from the pia mater, in- 
volve the brain and all the nerves; also the brain itself, 
and the arteries which are in the brain; and such other 
parts, as being stirred, the heart also, which is the 
fountain of all sense, is stirred together with them. 
For whensoever the action of the object reacheth the 
body of the sentient, that action is by some nerve prop- 



go LEVIATHAN 

agated to the brain; and if the nerve leading thither be 
so hurt or obstructed, that the motion can be propa- 
gated nc further, no sense follows. Also if the motion 
be intercepted between the brain and the heart by the 
defect of the organ by which the action is propagated, 
there will be no perception of the object. 

But though all sense, as I have said, be made by re- 
action, nevertheless it is not necessary that every thing 
that reacteth should have sense. I know there have 
been philosophers, and those learned men, who have 
maintained that all bodies are endued with sense. Nor 
do I see how they can be refuted, if the nature of sense 
be placed in reaction only. And, though by the reaction 
of bodies inanimate a phantasm might be made, it 
would nevertheless cease, as soon as ever the object were 
removed. For unless those bodies had organs, as living 
creatures have, fit for the retaining of such motion as is 
made in them, their sense would be such, as that they 
should never remember the same. And therefore this 
hath nothing to do with that sense which is the subject 
of my discourse. For by sense, we commonly understand 
the judgment we make of objects by their phantasms; 
namely, by comparing and distinguishing those phan- 
tasms ; which we could never do, if that motion in the or- 
gan, by which the phantasm is made, did not remain 
there for some time, and make the same phantasm return. 
Wherefore sense, as I here understand it, and which is 
commonly so called, hath necessarily some memory ad- 
hering to it, by which former and later phantasms may be 
compared together, and distinguished from one another. 

Sense, therefore, properly so called, must necessarily 
have in it a perpetual variety of phantasms, that they 
may be discerned one from another. For if we should 
suppose a man to be made with clear eyes, and all the 



OF SENSE 91 

rest of his organs of sight well disposed, but endued with 
no other sense; and that he should look only upon one 
thing, which is always of the same colour and figure,with- 
out the least appearance of variety, he would seem 
to me, whatsoever others may say, to see, no more than 
I seem to myself to feel the bones of my own limbs by 
my organs of feeling; and yet those bones are always 
and on all sides touched by a most sensible membrane. 
I might perhaps say he were astonished, and looked upon 
it ; but I should not say he saw it ; it being almost all one 
for a man to be always sensible of one and the same 
thing, and not to be sensible at all of anything. 

And yet such is the nature of sense, that it does 
not permit a man to discern many things at once. For 
seeing the nature of sense consists in motion ; as long as 
the organs are employed about one object, they cannot 
be so moved by another at the same time, as to make by 
both their motions one sincere phantasm of each of them 
at once. And therefore two several phantasms will not 
be made by two objects working together, but only one 
phantasm compounded from the action of both-. 

Besides, as when we divide a body, we divide its 
place; and when we reckon many bodies, we must nec- 
essarily reckon as many places ; and contrarily, as I have 
shown in the seventh chapter ; so what number soever we 
say there be of times, we must understand the same num- 
ber of motions also ; and as oft as we count many motions, 
so oft we reckon many times. For though the object we 
look upon be of divers colours, yet with those divers col- 
ours it is but one varied object, and not variety of objects. 

Moreover, whilst those organs which are common to 
all the senses, such as are those parts of every organ which 
proceed in men from the root of the nerves to the heart, 
are vehemently stirred by a strong action from some one 



92 LEVIATHAN 

object, they are, by reason of the contumacy which the mo- 
tion, they have already, gives them against the reception 
of all other motion, made the less fit to receive any other 
impression from whatsoever other objects, to what sense 
soever those objects belong. And hence it is, that an 
earnest studying of one object, takes away the sense of all 
other objects for the present. For study is nothing else 
but a possession of the mind, that is to say, a vehement 
motion made by some one object in the organs of sense, 
which are stupid to all other motions as long as this last- 
eth; according to what was said by Terence, "Populus 
studio stupidus in funambulo animum occuparat" For 
what is stupor but that which the Greeks call dvac<r&y<rf'a, 
that is, a cessation from the sense of other things ? 
Wherefore at one and the same time, we cannot by sense 
perceive more than one single object; as in reading, we 
see the letters successively one by one, and not altogether, 
though the whole page be presented to our eye ; and 
though every several letter be distinctly written there, 
yet when we look upon the whole page at once, we read 
nothing. 

From hence it is manifest, that every endeavour of the 
organ outwards, is not to be called sense, but that only, 
which at several times is by vehemence made stronger 
and more predominant than the rest; which deprives 
us of the sense of other phantasms, no otherwise than the 
sun deprives the rest of the stars of light, not by hinder- 
ing their action, but by obscuring and hiding them with 
his excess of brightness. 

*********** 
In most living creatures there are observed five kinds 
of senses, which are distinguished by their organs, and 
by their different kinds of phantasms ; namely, sight, hear- 
ing, smell, taste, and touch; and these have their organs 



OF SENSE 93 

partly peculiar to each of them severally, and partly com- 
mon to them all. The organ of sight is partly animate 
and partly inanimate. The inanimate parts are the three 
humours ; namely, the watery humour, which by the inter- 
position of the membrane called uvea, the perforation 
whereof is called the apple of the eye, is contained on one 
side by the first concave superficies of the eye, and on the 
other side by the ciliary processes, and the coat of the 
crystalline humour; the crystalline, which, hanging in 
the midst between the ciliaTy processes, and being almost 
of spherical figure, and of a thick consistence, is enclosed 
on all sides with its own transparent coat; and the vit- 
reous or glassy humour, which filleth all the rest of the 
cavity of the eye, and is somewhat thicker than the wat- 
ery humour, but thinner than the crystalline. The ani- 
mate part of the organ is, first, the membrane choroeides, 
which is a part cff the pia water, saving that it is covered 
with a coat derived from the marrow of the optic nerve, 
which is called the retina; and this choroeides, seeing it 
is part of the pia mater, is continued to the beginning 
of the medulla spinalis within the scull, in which all the 
nerves which are within the head have their roots- 
Wherefore all the animal spirits that the nerves receive, 
enter into them there; for it is not imaginable that they 
can enter into them anywhere else. Seeing therefore 
sense is nothing else but the action of objects propagated 
to the furthest part of the organ; and seeing also that 
animal spirits are nothing but vital spirits purified by the 
heart, and carried from it by the arteries ; it follows neces- 
sarily, that the action is derived from the heart by some 
of the arteries to the roots of the nerves which are in the 
head, whether those arteries be the plexus retiformis, or 
whether they be other arteries which are inserted into the 
substance of the brain. And, therefore, those arteries 



94 LEVIATHAN 

are the complement or the remaining part of the whole 
organ of sight. And this last part is a common organ 
to all the senses; whereas, that which reacheth from the 
eye to the roots of the nerves is proper only to sight. 
The proper organ of hearing is the tympanum of the ear 
and its own nerve; from which to the heart the organ 
is common. So the proper organs of smell and taste are 
nervous membranes, in the palate and tongue for the 
taste, and in the nostrils for the smell ; and from the roots 
of those nerves to the heart all is common. Lastly, the 
proper organ of touch are nerves and membranes dispers- 
ed through the whole body ; which membranes are derived 
from the root of the nerves. And all things else belong- 
ing alike to all the senses seem to be administered by the 
arteries, and not by the nerves. 

The proper phantasm of sight is light ; and under this 
name of light, colour also, which is nothing but perturbed 
light, is comprehended. Wherefore the phantasm of a lu- 
cid body is light; and of a coloured body, colour. But 
the object of sight, properly so called, is neither light 
nor colour, but the body itself which is lucid, or enlight- 
ened, or coloured. For light and colour, being phan- 
tasms of the sentient, cannot be accidents of the object. 
Which is manifest enough from this, that visible things 
appear oftentimes in places in which we know assuredly 
they are not, and that in different places they 
are of different colours, and may at one and 
the same time appear in divers places. Mo- 
tion, rest, magnitude and figure, are common both to the 
sight and touch ; and the whole appearance together of 
figure, and light or colour, is by the Greeks commonly 
called etdof, and etdwXov, and idia; and by the Latins, 
species and image ;d\\ which names signify no more but 
appearance. 



OF SENSE 95 

The phantasm, which is made by hearing, is sound; 
by smell, odour; by taste, savour; and by touch, hard- 
ness and softness, heat and cold, wetness, oiliness, and 
many more, which are easier to be distinguished by 
sense than words. Smoothness , roughness, rarity, and 
density, refer to figure, and are therefore common both 
to touch and sight. And as for the objects of hear- 
ing, smell, taste, and touch, they are not sound, odour, 
savour, hardness, &c, but the bodies themselves from 
which sound, odour, savour, hardness, &c. proceed; of 
the causes of which, and of the manner how they are 
produced, I shall speak hereafter. 

But these phantasms, though they be effects in the 
sentient, as subject, produced by objects working upon 
the organs ; yet there are also other effects besides these, 
produced by the same objects in the same organs ; name- 
ly certain motions proceeding from sense, which are 
called animal motions. For seeing in all sense of exter- 
nal things there is mutual action and reaction, that is, 
two endeavours opposing one another, it is manifest that 
the motion of both of them together will be continued 
every way, especially to the confines of both the bodies. 
And when this happens in the internal organ, the en- 
deavour outwards will proceed in a solid angle, which 
will be greater, and consequently the idea greater, than 
it would have been if the impression had been weaker. 

11. SUPPLEMENT FROM 

HUMAN NATURE. 

CHAPTER II. 

Originally all conceptions proceed from the action 
of the thing itself, whereof it is the conception : now 
when the action is present, the conception it produceth 



g6 LEVIATHAN 

is also called sense; and the thing by whose action the 
same is produced, is called the object of the sense. 

By our several organs we have several conceptions 
of several qualities in the objects; for by sight we have 
a conception or image composed of colour and figure, 
which is all the notice and knowledge the object im- 
parteth to us of its nature by the eye. By hearing we 
have a conception called sound, which is all the knowl- 
edge we have of the quality of the object from the ear. 
And so the rest of the senses are also conceptions of sev- 
eral qualities, or natures of their objects. 

Because the image in vision consisting of colour and 
shape is the knowledge we have of the qualities of the 
object of that sense; it is no hard matter for a man to 
fall into this opinion, that the same colour and shape 
are the very qualities themselves; and for the same 
cause, that sound and noise are the qualities of the bell, 
or of the air. And this opinion hath been so long re- 
ceived, that the contrary must needs appear a great par- 
adox ; and yet the introduction of species visible and in- 
telligible (which is necessary for the maintenance of 
that opinion) passing to and fro from the object, is 
worse than any paradox, as being a plain impossibility. 
I shall therefore endeavor to make plain these points: 

That the subject wherein colour and image are in- 
herent, is not the object or thing seen. 

That there is nothing without us (really) which we 
call an image or colour. 

That the said image or colour is but an apparition 
unto us of the motion, agitation, or alteration, which the 
object worketh in the brain, or spirits, or some internal 
substance of the head. 

That as in vision, so also in conceptions that arise 
from the other senses, the subject of their inherence is 
not the object, but the sentient. 



OF SENSE 97 

Every man hath so much experience as to have seen 
the sun and the other visible objects by reflection in the 
water and glasses; and this alone is sufficient for this 
conclusion, that colour and image may be there where 
the thing seen is not. But because it may be said that 
notwithstanding the image in the water be not in the ob- 
ject, but a thing merely phantastical, yet there may be 
colour really in the thing itself: I will urge further this 
experience, that divers times men see directly the same 
object double, as two candles for one, which may happen 
from distemper, or otherwise without distemper if a man 
will, the organs being either in their right temper, 01 
equally distempered ; the colours and figures in two such 
images of the same thing cannot be inherent therein, 
because the thing seen cannot be in two places. 

One of these images therefore is not inherent in the 
object: but seeing the organs of the sight are then in 
equal temper or distemper, the one of them is no more 
inherent than the other; and consequently neither of 
them both are in the object ; which is the first proposition, 
mentioned in the precedent number. 

Secondly, that the image of any thing by reflection in 
a glass or water or the like, is not any thing in or be- 
hind the glass, or in or under the water, every man may 
grant to himself ; which is the second proposition. 

For the third, we are to consider, first that upon every 
great agitation or concussion of the brain (as it happen- 
eth from a stroke, especially if the stroke be upon 
the eye) whereby the optic nerve suffereth any great vio- 
lence, there appeareth before the eyes a certain light, 
which light is nothing zvithout, but an apparition only, 
all that is real being the concussion or motion of the 
parts of that nerve; from which experience we may 
conclude, that apparition of light is really nothing but 



98 LEVIATHAN 

motion within. If therefore from lucid bodies there 
can be derived motion, so as to affect the optic nerve 
in such manner as is proper thereunto, there will follow 
an image of light somewhere in that line by which the 
motion was last derived to the eye; that is to say, in the 
object, if we look directly on it, and in the glass or water, 
when we look upon it in the line of reflection, which in 
effect is the third proposition; namely, that image and 
colour is but an apparition to us of that motion, agita- 
tion, or alteration which the object worketh in the brain 
or spirits, or some internal substance in the head. 

But that from all lucid, shining and illuminate bodies, 
there is a motion produced to the eye, and, through the 
eye, to the optic nerve, and so into the brain, by which 
that apparition of light or colour is affected, is not hard 
to prove. And first, it is evident that the fire, the only 
lucid body here upon earth, worketh by motion equally 
every way; insomuch as the motion thereof stopped or 
inclosed, it is presently extinguished, and no more fire. 
And further, that that motion, whereby the fire work- 
eth, is dilation, and contraction of itself alternately, com- 
monly called scintillation or glowing, is manifest also by 
experience. From such motion in the fire must needs 
arise a rejection or casting from itself of that part of 
the medium which is contiguous to it, whereby that part 
also rejecteth the next, and so successively one part beat- 
eth back another to the very eye; and in the same man- 
ner the exterior part of the eye presseth the interior, (the 
laws of refraction still observed). Now the interior 
coat of the eye is nothing else but a piece of the optic 
nerve; and therefore the motion is still continued there- 
by into the brain, and by resistance or reaction of the 
brain, is also a rebound into the optic nerve again; 
which we not conceiving as motion or rebound from 



OF SENSE 99 

within, do think it is without, and call it light; as hath 
been already shewed by the experience of a stroke. We 
have no reason to doubt, that the fountain of light, the 
sun, worketh by any other ways than the fire, at least 
in this matter. And thus all vision hath its original 
from such motion as is here described : for where there 
is no light, there is no sight; and therefore colour 
also must be the same thing with light, as being the 
effect of the lucid bodies: their difference being only 
this, that when the light cometh directly from the foun- 
tain to the eye, or indirectly by reflection from clean and 
polite bodies, and such as have not any particular mo- 
tion internal to alter it, we call it light; but when it 
cometh to the eye by reflection from uneven, rough, and 
coarse bodies, or such as are affected with internal 
motion of their own that may alter it, then we call it 
colour; colour and light differing only in this, that the 
one is pure, and the other perturbed light. By that 
which hath been said, not only the truth of the third 
proposition, but also the whole manner of producing 
light and colour, is apparent. 

As colour is not inherent in the object, but an effect 
thereof upon us, caused by such motion in the object, as 
hath been described : so neither is sound in the thing we 
hear, but in ourselves. One manifest sign thereof is, that 
as a man may see, so also he may hear double or treble, 
by multiplication of echoes, which echoes are sounds 
as well as the original; and not being in one and the 
same place, cannot be inherent in the body that maketh 
them. Nothing can make anything which is not in itself : 
the clapper hath no sound in it, but motion, and maketh 
motion in the internal parts of the bell ; so the bell hath 
motion, and not sound, that imparteth motion to the air; 
and the air hath motion, but not sound ; the air imparteth 



Ltfc. 



ioo LEVIATHAN 

motion by the ear and nerve unto the brain; and the brain 
hath motion but not sound; from the brain, it rebound- 
eth back into the nerves outward, and thence it becometh 
an apparition without, which we call sound. And to 
proceed to the rest of the senses, it is apparent enough, 
that the smell and taste of the same thing, are not the 
same to every man; and therefore are not in the thing 
smelt or tasted, but in the men. So likewise the heat we 
feel from the lire is manifestly in us, and is quite dif- 
ferent from the heat which is in the fire: for our heat is 
pleasure or pain, according as it is great or moderate; 
but in the coal there is no such thing. By this the fourth 
and last proposition is proved, viz. that as in vision, so 
also the conceptions that arise from other senses, the sub- 
ject of their inherence is not in the object, but in the sen- 
tient. 

And from hence also it followeth, that whatsoever 
accidents or qualities our senses make us think there be 
in the world, they be not there, but are seeming and 
apparitions only: the things that really are in the world 
without us, are those motions by which these seemings 
are caused. And this is the great deception of sense, 
which also is to be by sense corrected: for as sense telleth 
me, when I see directly, that the colour seemeth to be in 
the object; so also sense telleth me, when I see by re- 
flection, that colour is not in the object. 



CHAPTER II. 

OF IMAGINATION. 

That when a thing lies still, unless somewhat else stir 
it, it will lie still for ever, is a truth that no man doubts 
of. But that when a thing is in motion, it will eternally 
be in motion, unless somewhat else stay it, though the 
reason be the same, namely, that nothing can change it- 
self, is not so easily assented to. For men measure, not 
only other men, but all other things, by themselves; 
and because they find themselves subject after motion, 
to pain, and lassitude, think everything else grows weary 
of motion, and seeks repose of its own accord ; little con- 
sidering, whether it be not some other motion, wherein 
that desire of rest they find in themselves, consisteth. 
From hence it is, that the schools say, heavy bodies fall 
downwards, out of an appetite to rest, and to conserve 
their nature in that place which is most proper for them ; 
ascribing appetite, and knowledge of what is good for 
their conservation, which is more than man has, to things 
inanimate, absurdly. 

When a body is once in motion, it moveth, unless 
something else hinder it, eternally ; and whatsoever hind- 
ereth it cannot in an instant, but in time, and by de- 
grees, quite extinguish it; and as we see in the water, 
though the wind cease, the waves give not over rolling 
for a long time after : so also it happeneth in that motion, 
which is made in the internal parts of a man, then, when he 
sees, dreams, &c. For after the object is removed, or the 
eye shut, we still retain an image of the thing seen, though 
more obscure than when we see it. And this is it, the 
Latins call imagination, from the image made in seeing-; 



102 LEVIATHAN 

and apply the same, though improperly, to all the other 
senses. But the Greeks call it fancy; which signifies ap- 
pearance, and is as proper to one sense, as to another. 
Imagination therefore is nothing but decaying sense; 
and is found in men, and many other living creatures, as 
well sleeping, as waking. 

The decay of sense in men waking, is not the decay 
of the motion made in sense; but an obscuring of it, in 
such manner as the light of the sun obscureth the light 
of the stars ; which stars do no less exercise their virtue, 
by which they are visible, in the day than in the night. 
But because amongst many strokes, which our eyes, ears, 
and other organs receive from external bodies, the pre- 
dominant only is sensible ; therefore, the light of the sun 
being predominant, we are not affected with the action of 
the stars. And any object being removed from our eyes, 
though the impression it made in us remain, yet other ob- 
jects more present succeeding, and working on us, the 
imagination of the past is obscured, and made weak, as 
the voice of a man is in the noise of the day. From whence 
it followeth, that the longer the time is, after the sight 
or sense of any object, the weaker is the imagination. 
For the continual change of man's body destroys in time 
the parts which in sense were moved: so that distance 
of time, and of place, hath one and the same effect in us. 
For as at a great distance of place, that which we look 
at appears dim, and without distinction of the smaller 
parts ; and as voices grow weak, and inarticulate ; so also, 
after great distance of time, our imagination of the past 
is weak ; and we lose, for example, of cities we have seen, 
many particular streets, and of actions, many particular 
circumstances. 1 This decaying sense, when we would ex- 



^ompare Elements of Philosophy, (M. I, 396). "But the 



OF IMAGINATION 103 

press the thing itself, I mean fancy itself, we call imagina- 
tion, as I said before : but when we would express the de- 
cay, and signify that the sense is fading, old, and past, 
it is called memory. So that imagination and memory 
are but one thing, which for divers considerations hath 
divers names. 2 



motion of the organ, by which a phantasm is made, is not com- 
monly called sense, except the object be present. And the phan- 
tasm remaining after the object is removed or past by, is called 
fancy, and in Latin imaginatio ; which word, because all phan- 
tasms are not images, doth not fully answer the signification 
of the word fancy in its general acceptation. Nevertheless I 
may use it safely enough by understanding it for the Greek 
QavTOLaia. Imagination therefore is nothing else but sense 
decaying, or weakened, by the absence of the object. But what 
may be the cause of this decay or weakening? Is the motion the 
weaker, because the object is taken away? If it were, then 
phantasms would always and necessarily be less clear in the 
imagination, than they are in sense; which is not true. For in 
dreams, which are the imaginations of those that sleep, they 
are no less clear than in sense itself. But the reason why in 
men waking the phantasms of things past are more obscure 
than those of things present, is this, that their organs being at 
the same time moved by other present objects, those phantasms 
are the less predominant. Whereas in sleep, the passages being 
shut up, external action doth not at all disturb or hinder internal 
motion." Compare also Questions Concerning Liberty (M. V. 
358-359) • "If the Bishop had observed what he does himself, 
when he deliberates, reasons, understands, or imagines, he would 
have known what to make of all I have said in this Number. 
He would have known that consideration, understanding, reason, 
and all the passions of the mind, are imaginations. That to con- 
sider a thing, is to imagine it ; that to understand a thing, is 
to imagine it ; that to hope and fear, are to imagine the things 
hoped for and feared. The difference between them is, that when 
we imagine the consequence of anything, we are said to consider 
that thing; and when we have imagined anything from a sign, 
and especially from those signs we call names, we are said to 
understand his meaning that maketh the sign; and when we 
reason, we imagine the consequence of affirmations and nega- 
tions joined together; and when we hope or fear, we imagine 
things good or hurtful to ourselves : insomuch as all these are 
but imaginations diversely named from different circumstances : 
as any man may perceive as easily as he can look into his own 
thoughts." 

2 Compare Elements of Philosophy, (M. I, 398). "For 



104 LEVIATHAN 

Much memory, or memory of many things, is called 
experience.* Again, imagination being only of those 
things which have been formerly perceived by sense, either 
all at once, or by parts at several times ; the former, which 
is the imagining the whole object as it was presented 
to the sense, is simple imagination, as when one imag- 



Qavrdfrffdai and memimsse, fancy and memory, differ only in this, 
that memory supposeth the time past, which fancy doth not. In 
memory, the phantasms we consider are as if they were worn 
out with time; but in our fancy we consider them as they 
are; which distinction is not of the things themselves, but of 
the considerations of the sentient. For there is in memory 
something like that which happens in looking upon things at 
a great distance; in which as the small parts of the object are 
not discerned, by reason of their remoteness; so in memory, 
many accidents and places and parts of things, which were for- 
merly perceived by sense, are by length of time decayed and 
lost." Also Human Nature (M. IV, 12). "For the manner 
by which we take notice of a conception past, we are to remem- 
ber, that in the definition of imagination, it is said to be a con- 
ception by little and little decaying, or growing more obscure. 
An obscure conception is that which representeth the whole ob- 
ject together, but none of the smaller parts by themselves; and 
as more or fewer parts be represented, so is the conception or 
representation said to be more or less clear. Seeing then the con- 
ception, which when it was first produced by sense, was clear, 
and represented the parts of the object distinctly; and when it 
cometh again is obscure, we find missing somewhat that we 
expected; by which we judge it past and decayed. For example, 
a man that is present in a foreign city, seeth not only whole 
streets, but can also distinguish particular houses, and parts 
of houses; but departed thence, he cannot distinguish them so 
particularly in his mind as he did, some house or turning escap- 
ing him; yet is this to remember: when afterwards there escape 
him more particulars, this is also to remember, but not so well. 
In process of time, the image of the city returneth but as a mass 
of building only, which is almost to have forgotten it. Seeing 
then remembrance is more or less, as we find more or less 
obscurity, why may not we well think remembrance to be noth- 
ing else but the missing of parts, which every man expecteth 
should succeed after they have a conception of the whole? To 
see at a great distance of place, and to remember at a great dis- 
tance of time, is to have like conceptions of the thing: for there 
wanteth distinction of parts in both; the one conception being 
weak by operation at distance, the other by decay." 

"Compare Human Nature, (M. IV, 16). "The remembrance 



OF IMAGINATION 105 

ineth a man, or horse, which he hath seen before. The 
other is compounded; as when, from the sight of a man 
at one time, and of a horse at another, we conceive in 
our mind a Centaur. So when a man compoundeth the 
image of his own person with the image of the actions 
of another man, as when a man imagines himself a Hercu- 
les or an Alexander, which happeneth often to them that 
are much taken with reading of romances, it is a com- 
pound imagination, and properly but a fiction of the mind. 
There be also other imaginations that rise in men, though 
waking, from the great impression made in sense : as from 
gazing upon the sun, the impression leaves an image of 
the sun before our eyes a long time after ; and from be- 
ing long and vehemently attent upon geometrical figures, 
a man shall in the dark, though awake, have the images 
of lines and angles before his eyes; which kind of fancy 
hath no particular name, as being a thing that doth not 
commonly fall into men's discourse. 

The imaginations of them that sleep are those we call 
dreams. And these also, as all other imaginations, have 
been before, either totally or by parcels* in the sense. And 
because in sense, the brain and nerves, which are the nec- 
essary organs of sense, are so benumbed in sleep, as not 
easily to be moved by the action of external objects, there 
can happen in sleep no imagination, and therefore no 
dream, but what proceeds from the agitation of the inward 



of succession of one thing to another, that is, of what was 
antecedent, and what consequent, and what concomitant, is 
called an experiment; whether the same be made by us vol- 
untarily, as when a man putteth any thing into the fire, to see 
what effect the fire will produce upon it : or not made by us, 
as when we remember a fair morning after a red evening. 
To have had many experiments, is what we call experience, 
which is nothing else but remembrance of what antecedents have 
been followed by what consequents." 



106 LEVIATHAN 

parts of man's body ; which inward parts, for the connex- 
ion they have with the brain, and other organs, when they 
be distempered, do keep the same in motion ; whereby the 
imaginations there formerly made, appear as if a man 
were waking ; saving that the organs of sense being now 
benumbed, so as there is no new object, which can master 
and obscure them with a more vigorous impression, a 
dream must needs be more clear, in this silence of sense, 
than our waking thoughts- And hence it cometh to 
pass, that it is a hard matter, and by many thought im- 
possible, to distinguish exactly between sense and dream- 
ing. For my part, when I consider that in dreams 
I do not often nor constantly think of the same persons, 
places, objects, and actions, that I do waking; nor remem- 
ber so long a train of coherent thoughts, dreaming, as at 
other times ; and because waking I often observe the ab- 
surdity of dreams, but never dream of the absurdities of 
my waking thoughts ; I am well satisfied, that being 
awake, I know I dream not, though when I dream I think 
myself awake. 

And seeing dreams are caused by the distemper of some 
of the inward parts of the body, divers distempers must 
needs cause different dreams. And hence it is that lying 
cold breedeth dreams of fear, and raiseth the thought and 
image of some fearful object, the motion from the brain 
to the inner parts and from the inner parts to the brain be- 
ing reciprocal; and that as anger causeth heat in some 
parts of the body when we are awake, so when we sleep the 
overheating of the same parts causeth anger, and raiseth 
up in the brain the imagination of an enemy. In the same 
manner, as natural kindness, when we are awake, causeth 
desire, and desire maketh heat in certain other parts of the 
body ; so also too much heat in those parts, while we sleep, 
raiseth in the brain the imagination of some kindness 



OF IMAGINATION 107 

shown. In sum, our dreams are the reverse of our wak- 
ing imaginations; the motion when we are awake be- 
ginning at one end, and when we dream at another. 4 



4 Compare Elements of Philosophy, (M. I, 399) . "The phan- 
tasms of men that sleep, are dreams. Concerning which we 
are taught by experience these five things. First, that for the 
most part there is neither order nor coherence in them. Sec- 
ondly, that we dream of nothing but what is compounded and 
made up of the phantasms of sense past. Thirdly, that some- 
times they proceed, as in those that are drowsy, from the in- 
terruption of their phantasms by little and little, broken and 
altered through sleepiness; and sometimes also they begin in 
the midst of sleep. Fourthly, that they are clearer than the 
imaginations of waking men, except such as are made by sense 
itself, to which they are equal in clearness. Fifthly, that when 
we dream, we admire neither the places nor the looks of the 
things that appear to us. Now from what hath been said, it is 
not hard to show what may be the causes of these phenomena. 
For as for the first, seeing all order and coherence proceeds from 
frequent looking back to the end, that is, from consultation; it 
must needs be, that seeing in sleep we lose all thought of the end, 
our phantasms succeed one another, not in that order which 
tends to any end, but as it happeneth, and in such manner, as 
objects present themselves to our eyes when we look indiffer- 
ently upon all things before us, and see them, not because we 
would see them, but because we do not shut our eyes ; for then 
they appear to us without any order at all. The second pro- 
ceeds from this, that in the silence of sense there is no new 
motion from the objects, and therefore no new phantasm, unless 
we call that new, which is compounded of old ones, as a chimera, 
a golden mountain, and the like. As for the third, why a dream 
is sometimes as it were the continuation of sense, made up of 
broken phantasms, as in men distempered with sickness, the rea- 
son is manifestly this, that in some of the organs sense remains, 
and in others it faileth. But how some phantasms may be re- 
vived, when all the exterior organs are benumbed with sleep, 
is not so easily shown. Nevertheless that, which hath already 
been said, contains the reason of this also. For whatsoever 
strikes the pia mater, reviveth some of those phantasms that 
are still in motion in the brain ; and when any internal motion of 
the heart reacheth that membrane, then the predominant motion 
in the brain makes the phantasm. Now the motions of the 
heart are appetites and aversions, of which I shall presently 
speak further. And as appetites and aversions are generated 
by phantasms, so reciprocally phantasms are generated by ap- 
petites and aversions. * * * * The fourth, namely, that 
the things we seem to see and feel in sleep, are as clear as in 
sense itself, proceeds from two causes; one. that having then no 



ip8 LEVIATHAN 

The most difficult discerning of a man's dream, from 
his waking thoughts, is then, when by some accident we 
observe not that we have slept: which is easy to happen 
to a man full of fearful thoughts, and whose conscience is 
much troubled; and that sleepeth, without the circum- 



sense of things without us, that internal motion which makes the 
phantasm, in the absence of all other impressions, is predomi- 
nant; and the other, that the parts of our phantasms which are 
decayed and worn out by time, are made up with other fictitious 
parts. To conclude, when we dream, we do not wonder at 
strange places and the appearances of things unknown to us, 
because admiration requires that the things appearing be new 
and unusual, which can happen to none but those that remember 
former appearances; whereas in sleep, all things appear as pres- 
ent. But it is here to be observed, that certain dreams, 
especially such as some men have when they are between 
sleeping and waking, and such as happen to those 
that have no knowledge of the nature of dreams and 
are withal superstitious, were not heretofore nor are 
now accounted dreams. For the apparitions men thought 
they saw, and the voices they thought they heard in sleep, were 
not believed to be phantasms, but things subsisting of them- 
selves, and objects without those that dreamed. For to some 
men, as well sleeping as waking, but especially to guilty men, 
and in the night, and in hallowed places, fear alone, helped a 
little with the stories of such apparitions, hath raised in their 
minds terrible phantasms, which have been and are still deceitful- 
ly received for things really true, under the names of ghosts and 
incorporeal substances." Also Human Nature, (M. IV. 10, 13- 
14). "The causes of dreams, if they be natural, are the actions 
or violence of the inward parts of a man upon his brain, by 
which the passages of sense by sleep benumbed, are restored 
to their motion. The signs by which this appeareth to be so, 
are the differences of dreams (old men commonly dream oftener, 
and have their dreams more painful than young) proceeding 
from the different accidents of man's body, as dreams of lust, 
as dreams of anger, according as the heart, or other parts within, 
work more or less upon the brain, by more or less heat; so also 
the descents of different sorts of phlegm maketh us a dream of 
different tastes of meats and drinks ; and I believe there is a 
reciprocation of motion from the brain to the vital parts, and 
back from the vital parts to the brain; whereby not only im- 
agination begetteth motion in those parts ; but also motion in 
those parts begetteth imagination like to that by which it was 
begotten. If this be true, and that sad imaginations nourish 
the spleen, then we see also a cause, why a strong spleen recip- 



OF IMAGINATION 109 

stances of going to bed or putting off his clothes, as one 
that noddeth in a chair. For he that taketh pains, and 
industriously lays himself to sleep, in case any uncouth 
and exhorbitant fancy come unto him, cannot easily think 
it other than a dream. We read of Marcus Brutus, (one 
that had his life given him by Julius Caesar, and was also 



rocally causeth fearful dreams, and why the effects of lascivious- 
mss may in a dream produce the image of some person that had 
caused them. Another sign that dreams are caused by the 
action of the inward parts, is the disorder and casual conse- 
quence of one conception or image to another: for when we are 
waking, the antecedent thought or conception introduceth, and 
is cause of the consequent, as the water followeth a man's finger 
upon a dry and level table; but in dreams there is commonly 
no coherence, and when there is, it is by chance, which must 
needs proceed from this, that the brain in dreams is not restored 
to its motion in every part alike : whereby it cometh to pass, that 
our thoughts appear like the stars between the flying clouds, 
not in the order which a man would choose to observe them, 
but as the uncertain flight of broken clouds permits. * * * 
And from this that hath been said, there followeth, that a man 
can never know he dreameth; he may dream he doubteth, 
whether it be a dream or no: but the clearness of the imagin- 
ation representeth every thing with as many parts as doth sense 
itself, and consequently, he can take notice of nothing but as 
present; whereas to think he dreameth, is to think those his 
conceptions, that is to say dreams, obscurer than they were in 
the sense : so that he must think them both as clear, and not as 
clear as sense; which is impossible. From the same ground it 
proceedeth, that men wonder not in their dreams at place and 
persons, as they would do waking : for waking, a man would think 
it strange to be in a place where he never was before, and remem- 
ber nothing of how he came there ; but in a dream, there cometh 
little of that kind into consideration. The clearness of con- 
ception in a dream, taketh away distrust, unless the strangeness 
be excessive, as to think himself fallen from on high without 
hurt, and then most commonly he waketh. Nor is it impossible 
for a man to be so far deceived, as when his dream is past, to 
think it real : for if he dream of such things as are ordinarily 
in his mind, and in such order as he useth to do waking, and 
withal that he laid him down to sleep in the place where he 
findeth himself when he awaketh ; all which may happen : I 
know no Kpa-qpiov or mark by which he can discern whether 
it were a dream or not, and therefore do the less wonder to 
hear a man sometimes to tell his dream for a truth, or to take it 
for a vision." 



no LEVIATHAN 

his favourite, and notwithstanding murdered him), how 
at Philippi, the night before he gave battle to Augustus 
Caesar, he saw a fearful apparition, which is commonly 
related by historians as a vision ; but considering the cir- 
cumstances,, one may easily judge to have been but a 
short dream. For sitting in his tent, pensive and troubled 
with the horror of his rash act, it was not hard for him, 
slumbering in the cold, to dream of that which most af- 
frighted him ; which fear, as by degrees it made him wake, 
so also it must needs make the apparition by degrees to 
vanish; and having no assurance that he slept, he could 
have no cause to think it a dream, or anything but a 
vision. And this is no very rare accident ; for even they 
that be perfectly awake, if they be timorous and super- 
stitious, possessed with fearful tales, and alone in the 
dark, are subject to the like fancies, and believe they see 
spirits and dead men's ghosts walking in churchyards; 
whereas it is either their fancy only, or else the knavery of 
such persons as make use of such superstitious fear, 
to pass disguised in the night, to places they would not 
be known to haunt. 

From this ignorance of how to distinguish dreams, and 
other strong fancies, from vision and sense, did arise the 
greatest part of the religion of the Gentiles in time past, 
that worshipped satyrs, fawns, nymphs, and the like ; and 
now-a-days the opinion that rude people have of fairies, 
ghosts, and goblins, and of the power of witches. For as 
for witches, I think not that their witchcraft is any real 
power; but yet that they are justly punished, for the 
false belief they have that they can do such mischief, 
joined with their purpose to do it if they can; their trade 
being nearer to a new religion than to a craft or science. 
And for fairies, and walking ghosts, the opinion of them 
has, I think, been on purpose either taught or not confut- 



OF IMAGINATION in 

ed, to keep in credit the use of exorcism, of crosses, of 
holy water, and other such inventions of ghostly men. 
Nevertheless, there is no doubt, but God can make unnat- 
ural apparitions ; but that he does it so often, as men need 
to fear such things, more than they fear the stay or 
change of the course of nature, which he also can stay, 
and change, is no point of Christian faith. But evil men 
under pretext that God can do anything, are so bold as 
to say anything when it serves their turn, though they 
think it untrue; it is the part of a wise man, to believe 
them no farther, than right reason makes that which 
they say, appear credible. If this superstitious fear of 
spirits were taken away, and with it, prognostics from 
dreams, false prophecies, and many other things depend- 
ing thereon, by which crafty ambitious persons abuse the 
simple people, men would be much more fitted than they 
are for civil obedience. 

And this ought to be the work of the schools : but they 
rather nourish such doctrine. For, not knowing what 
imagination or the senses are, what they receive, they 
teach: some saying, that imaginations rise of them- 
selves, and have no cause; others, that they rise most 
commonly from the will ; and that good thoughts are 
blown (inspired) into a man by God, and evil thoughts 
by the Devil; or that good thoughts are poured (infused) 
into a man by God, and evil ones by the Devil. Some 
say the senses receive the species of things, and deliver 
them to the common sense; and the common sense de- 
livers them over to the fancy, and the fancy to the 
memory, and the memory to the judgment, like handing 
of things from one to another, with many words mak- 
ing nothing understood. 

The imagination that is raised in man, or any other 
creature indued with the faculty of imagining, by words, 



112 LEVIATHAN 

or other voluntary signs, is that we generally call tinder- 
standing; and is common to man and beast. For a dog 
by custom will understand the call, or the rating of his 
master; and so will many other beasts. That under- 
standing which is peculiar to man, is the understanding 
not only his will, but his conceptions and thoughts, by the 
sequel and contexture of the names of things into affirm- 
ations, negations, and other forms of speech ; and of this 
kind of understanding I shall speak hereafter. 5 



s Compare below p. 129. Also Human Nature, (M. IV, 23). 
"This equivocation of names maketh it difficult to recover those 
conceptions for which the name was ordained; and that not only 
in the language of other men, wherein we are to consider the 
drift, and occasion, and contexture of the speech, as well as the 
zvords themselves; but also in our discourse, which being de- 
rived from the custom and common use of speech, representeth 
unto us not our own conceptions. It is therefore a great ability 
in a man, out of the words, contexture, and other circumstances 
of language, to deliver himself from equivocation, and to find 
out the true meaning of what is said: and this is it we call 
understanding. ' ' 



CHAPTER III. 

OF THE CONSEQUENCE OR TRAIN OF IMAGINATIONS. 

By Consequence, or train of thoughts, I understand that 
succession of one thought to another, which is called, to 
distinguish it from discourse in words, mental discourse. 1 
When a man thinketh on any thing whatsoever, his 
next thought after, is not altogether so casual as it seems 
to be. Not every thought to every thought succeeds in- 
differently. But as we have no imagination, whereof 
we have not formerly had sense, in whole, or in parts ; so 
we have no transition from one imagination to another, 
whereof we never had the like before in our senses. The 
reason whereof is this . All fancies are motions within us, 
relics of those made in the sense : and those motions that 
immediately succeeded one another in the sense, con- 
tinue also together after sense: insomuch as the former 
coming again to take place, and be predominant, the 
latter followeth, by coherence of the matter moved, in 
such manner, as water upon a plane table is drawn 



1 Compare Elements of Philosophy, (M. I, 399). "The per- 
petual arising of phantasms, both in sense and imagination, is 
that which we commonly call discourse of the mind, and is 
common to men with other living creatures. For he that think- 
eth, compareth the phantasms that pass, that is, taketh notice of 
their likeness or unlikeness to one another. And as he that ob- 
serves readily the likenesses of things of different natures, or 
that are very remote from one another, is said to have a good 
fancy; so he is said to have a good judgment, that finds out the 
unlikenesses or differences of things that are like one another. 
Now this observation of differences is not perception made by 
a common organ of sense, distinct from sense or perception prop- 
erly so called, but is memory of the differences of particular 
phantasms remaining for some time ; as the distinction between 
hot and lucid, is nothing else but the memory both of a heating, 
and of an enlightening object." 



114 LEVIATHAN 

which way any one part of it is guided by the finger . But 
because in sense, to one and the same thing perceived, 
sometimes one thing, sometimes another succeedeth, it 
comes to pass in time, that in the imagining of any thing, 
there is no certainty what we shall imagine next; only 
this is certain, it shall be something that succeeded the 
same before, at one time or another. 2 

This train of thoughts, or mental discourse, is of two 
sorts. The first is ungnided, without design, and incon- 
stant ; wherein there is no passionate thought, to govern 
and direct those that follow, to itself, as the end and 
scope of some desire, or other passion : in which case the 
thoughts are said to wander, and seem impertinent one 
to another, as in a dream. Such are commonly the thoughts 
of men, that are not only without company, but also with- 
out care of anything; though even then their thoughts 
are as busy as at other times, but without harmony ; as the 
sound which a lute out of tune would yield to any man ; or 
in tune, to one that could not play. And yet in this wild 
ranging of the mind, a man may oft-times perceive the way 



' Compare Human Nature, (M. IV, 15). "The cause of 
the coherence or consequence of one conception to another, is 
their first coherence of consequence at that time when they are 
produced by sense : as for example, from St. Andrew the mind 
runneth to St. Peter, because their names are read together ; 
from St. Peter, to a stone, for the same cause; from stone 
to foundation, because we see them together; and for the same 
cause, from foundation to church, and from church to people, 
and from people to tumult: and according to this example, the 
mind may run almost from anything to anything. But as in 
the sense the conception of cause and effect may succeed one 
another ; so may they after sense in the imagination : and for the 
most part they do so: the cause whereof is the appetite of them, 
who, having a conception of the end, have next unto it a con- 
ception of the next means to that end : as, when a man, from 
a thought of honour to which he hath an appetite, cometh to 
the thought of wisdom, which is the next means thereunto ; 
and from thence to the thought of study, which is the next 
means to wisdom." 



TRAIN OF IMAGINATIONS 115 

of it, and the dependence of one thought upon another. 
For in a discourse of our present civil war, what could 
seem more impertinent, than to ask, as one did, what was 
the value of a Roman penny? Yet the coherence to me 
was manifest enough. For the thought of the war, intro- 
duced the thought of the delivering up the king to his en- 
emies ; the thought of that, brought in the thought of the 
delivering up of Christ ; and that again the thought of the 
thirty pence, which was the price of that treason ; and 
thence easily followed that malicious question, and all 
this in a moment of time ; for thought is quick. 

The second is more constant; as being regulated by 
some desire, and design. For the impression made by 
such things as we desire, or fear, is strong, and perman- 
ent, or, if it cease for a time, of quick return : so strong 
it is sometimes, as to hinder and break our sleep. From 
desire, ariseth the thought of some means we have seen 
produce the like of that which we aim at; and from the 
thought of that, the thought of means to that mean ; and 
so continually, till we come to some beginning within 
our own power. And because the end, by the greatness of 
the impression, comes often to mind, in case our thoughts 
begin to wander, they are quickly again reduced into the 
way-: which observed by one of the seven wise men, made 
him give men this precept, which is now worn out, 
Res pice finem; that is to say, in all your actions, look 
often upon what you would have, as the thing that 
directs all your thoughts in the way to attain it. 

The train of regulated thoughts is of two kinds ; one, 
when of an effect imagined we seek the causes, or means 
that produce it: and this is common to man and beast. 
The other is, when imagining anything whatsoever, we 
seek all the possible effects, that can by it be produced; 
that is to say, we imagine what we can do with it, when 



u6 LEVIATHAN 

we have it. Of which I have not at any time seen any 
sign, but in man only; for this is a curiosity hardly in- 
cident to the nature of any living creature that has no 
other passion but sensual, such as are hunger, thirst, 
lust, and anger. In sum, the discourse of the mind, when 
it is governed by design, is nothing but seeking, or the 
faculty of invention, which the Latins called sagacitas, 
and solertia; a hunting out of the causes, of some effect, 
present or past ; or of the effects, of some present or past 
cause. Sometimes a man seeks what he hath lost; and 
from that place, and time, wherein he misses it, his mind 
runs back, from place to place, and time to time, to find 
where, and when he had it; that is to say, to find some 
certain, and limited time and place, in which to begin a 
method of seeking. Again, from thence, his thoughts run 
over the same places and times, to find what action, or 
other occasion might make him lose it. This we call re- 
membrance, or calling to mind : the Latins call it remini- 
scentia, as it were a re-conning of our former actions. 

Sometimes a man knows a place determinate, with- 
in the compass whereof he is to seek; and then his 
thoughts run over all the parts thereof, in the same manner 
as one would sweep a room, to find a jewel; or as a 
spaniel ranges the field, till he find a scent ; or as a man 
should run over the alphabet, to start a rhyme. 

Sometimes a man desires to know the event of an 
action ; and then he thinketh of some like action past, 
and the events thereof one after another; supposing like 
events will follow like actions. As he that foresees what 
will become of a criminal, re-cons what he has seen follow 
on the like crime before; having this order of thoughts, 
the crime, the officer, the prison, the judge, and the gal- 
lows. Which kind of thoughts, is called foresight, and 
prudence, or providence ; and sometimes zvisdom; though 



TRAIN OF IMAGINATIONS 117 

such conjecture, through the difficulty of observing all 
circumstances, be very fallacious. But this is certain ; by 
how much one man has more experience of things past, 
than another, by so much also he is more prudent, 
and his expectations the seldomer fail him . The present 
only has a being in nature ; things past have a being in the 
memory only, but things to come have no being at all ; the 
future being but a fiction of the mind, applying the se- 
quels of actions passed, to the actions that are present; 
which with most certainty is done by him that has most 
experience, but not with certainty enough. And though 
it be called prudence, when the event answereth our ex- 
pectation; yet in its own nature, it is but presumption. 
For the foresight of things to come, which is providence, 
belongs only to him by whose will they are to come. 
From him only, and supernaturally, proceeds prophecy. 
The best prophet naturally is the best guesser; and the 
best guesser, he that is most versed and studied in the 
matters he guesses at : for he hath most signs to guess by. 

A sign is the evident antecedent of the consequent; 
and contrarily, the consequent of the antecedent, when 
the like consequences have been observed, before: and 
the oftener they have been observed, the less uncertain 
is the sign. And therefore he that has most experience 
in any kind of business, has most signs, whereby to guess 
at the future time ; and consequently is the most prudent : 
and so much more prudent than he that is new in that 
kind of business, as not to be equalled by any advantage 
of natural and extemporary wit: though perhaps many 
young men think the contrary. 

Nevertheless it is not prudence that distinguisheth man 
from beast. There be beasts, that at a year old observe 
more, and pursue that which is for their good, more pru- 
dently, than a child can do at ten. 



•Ii8 LEVIATHAN 

As prudence is a presumption of the future, contracted 
from the experience of time past: so there is a presumption 
of things past taken from other things, not future, but 
past also. For he that hath seen by what courses and de- 
grees a flourishing state hath first come into civil war, and 
then to ruin ; upon the sight of the ruins of any other state, 
will guess, the like war, and the like courses have been 
there also. But this conjecture, has the same uncertainty 
almost with the conjecture of the future; both being 
grounded only upon experience. 3 

There is no other act of man's mind, that I can remem- 
ber, naturally planted in him, so as to need no other thing, 
to the exercise of it, but to be born a man, and live with 
the use of his five senses. Those other faculties, of which 
I shall speak by and by, and which seem proper to man 
only, are acquired and increased by study and industry; 
and of most men learned by instruction, and discipline; 
and proceeds all from the invention of words, and speech. 
For besides sense, and thoughts, and the train of thoughts, 
the mind of man has no other motion ; though by the help 
of speech, and method, the same faculties may be improved 



"The chapter corresponding to this in Human Nature (M. 
IV, 18), closes with the following caveats of concluding from 
experience. "As in conjecture concerning things past and fu- 
ture, it is prudence to conclude from experience, what is like 
to come to pass, or to have passed already; so it is an error 
to conclude from it, that it is so or so called; that is to say, 
we cannot from experience conclude, that anything is to be called 
just or unjust, true or false, or any proposition universal what- 
soever, except it be from remembrance of the use of names im- 
posed arbitrarily by men: for example, to have heard a sentence 
given in the like case, the like sentence a thousand times is 
not enough to conclude that the sentence is just; though most 
men have no other means to conclude by : but it is necessary, 
for the drawing of such a conclusion, to trace and find out, by 
many experiences, what men do mean by calling things just 
and unjust. Further, there is another caveat to be taken 
in concluding by experience, * * * that is, that we con- 
clude such things to be without, that are within us'." 



TRAIN OF IMAGINATIONS 119 

to such a height, as to distinguish men from all other liv- 
ing creatures. 

Whatsoever we imagine is Unite. . k Therefore there 
is no idea, or conception of any thing we call infinite. No 
man can have in his mind an image of infinite magnitude ; 
nor conceive infinite swiftness, infinite time, or infinite 
force, or infinite power. When we say anything is in- 
finite, we signify only, that we are not able to conceive 
the ends, and bounds of the things named; having no 
conception of the thing, but of our own inability. And 
therefore the name of God is used, not to make us con- 
ceive him, for he is incomprehensible ; and his greatness, 
and power are unconceivable; but that we may honour 
him. Also because, whatsoever, as I said before, we con- 
ceive, has been perceived first by sense, either all at once, 
or by parts ; a man can have no thought, representing any- 
thing, not subject to sense. No man therefore can con- 
ceive anything, but he must conceive it in some place ; and 
indued with some determinate magnitude ; and which may 
be divided into parts ; nor that anything is all in this place, 
and all in another place at the same time ; nor that two, 
or more things can be in one, and the same place at 
once: for none of these things ever have, nor can be 
incident to sense; but are absurd speeches, taken upon 
credit, without any signification at all, from deceived 
philosophers, and deceived, or deceiving schoolmen. 4 



* Compare above p. 62, n. 



CHAPTER IV. 

OF SPEECH. 1 

The invention of printing, though ingenious, compared 
with the invention of letters, is no great matter. But 
who was the first that found the use of letters, is not 
known. He that first brought them into Greece, men 
say was Cadmus, the son of Agenor, king of Phoenicia. 
A profitable invention for continuing the memory of time 
passed, and the conjunction of mankind, dispersed 
into so many, and distant regions of the earth ; and with- 
al difficult, as proceeding from a watchful obesrvation 
of the divers motions of the tongue, palate, lips, and other 
organs of speech ; whereby to make as many differences 
of characters, to remember them. But the most noble 
and profitable invention of all other, was that of speech, 
consisting of names or appellations, and their connexion ; 
whereby men register their thoughts ; recall them when 
they are past; and also declare them one to another for 
mutual utility and conversation; without which, there 
had been amongst men, neither commonwealth, nor so- 
ciety, nor contract, nor peace, no more than amongst 
lions, bears, and wolves. The first author of speech was 
God himself, that instructed Adam how to name such 
creatures as he presented to his sight ; for the Scripture 
goeth no further in this matter. But this was sufficient 
to direct him to add more names, as the experience and 
use of the creatures should give him occasion; and to 
join them in such manner by degrees, as to make himself 
understood; and so by succession of time, so much lan- 



1 Compare above Elements of Philosophy, p. I3f. 



OF SPEECH 121 

guage might be gotten, as he had found use for; though 
not so copious, as an orator or philosopher has need of : 
for I do not find anything in the Scripture, out of which, 
directly or by consequence, can be gathered, that Adam 
was taught the names of all figures, numbers, meas- 
ures, colours, sounds, fancies, relations; much less the 
names of words and speech, as general, special, affirma- 
tive, negative, interrogative, optative, infinitive, all 
which are useful; and least of all, of entity, intention- 
ally, quiddity, and other insignificant words of the school. 

But all this language gotten, and augmented by Adam 
and his posterity, was again lost at the Tower of Babel, 
when, by the hand of God, every man was stricken, for 
his rebellion, with an oblivion of his former language. 
And being hereby forced to disperse themselves into 
several parts of the world, it must needs be, that the di- 
versity of tongues that now is, proceeded by degrees from 
them, in such manner, as need, the mother of all inven- 
tions, taught them; and in tract of time grew every- 
where more copious. 

The general use of speech, is to transfer our mental 
discourse, into verbal ; or the train of our thoughts, into 
a train of words; and that for two commodities, where- 
of one is the registering of the consequences of our 
thoughts; which being apt to slip out of our memory, 
and put us to a new labour, may again be recalled, by such 
words as they were marked by. So that the first use of 
names is to serve for marks, or notes of remembrance. An- 
other is, when many use the same words, to signify, by 
their connexion and order, one to another, what they con- 
ceive, or think of each matter; and also what they de- 
sire, fear, or have any other passion for. And for this 
use they are called signs. Special uses of speech are these : 
first, to register, what by cogitation, we find to be the 



122 LEVIATHAN 

cause of anything, present or past; and what we find 
things present or past may produce, or effect; which in 
sum, is acquiring of arts. Secondly, to show to others 
that knowledge which we have attained, which is, to 
counsel and teach one another. Thirdly, to make known 
to others our wills and purposes, that we may have the 
mutual help of one another. Fourthly, to please and de- 
light ourselves and others, by playing with our words, 
for pleasure or ornament, innocently. 

To these uses, there are also four correspondent 
abuses. First, when men register their thoughts wrong, 
by the inconstancy of the signification of their words; 
by which they register for their conception, that which 
they never conceived, and so deceive themselves. Sec- 
ondly, when they use words metaphorically; that is, in 
other sense than that they are ordained for ; and thereby 
deceive others. Thirdly, by words, when they declare 
that to be their will, which is not. Fourthly, when they 
use them to grieve one another; for seeing nature hath 
armed living creatures, some with teeth, some with 
horns, and some with hands, to grieve an enemy, it is 
but an abuse of speech, to grieve him with the tongue, 
unless it be one whom we are obliged to govern; and 
then it is not to grieve, but to correct and amend. 

The manner how speech serveth to the remembrance 
of the consequence of causes and effects, consisteth in the 
imposing of names, and the connexion of them. 

Of names, some are proper, and singular to one only 
thing, as Peter, John, this man, this tree; and some are 
common to many things, man, horse, tree; every of 
which, though but one name, is nevertheless the name of 
divers particular things ; in respect of all which together, 
it is called an universal; there being nothing in the world 



OF SPEECH 123 

universal but names ; for the things named are every one 
of them individual and singular. 

One universal name is imposed on many things, for 
their similitude in some quality, or other accident; and 
whereas a proper name bringeth to mind one thing only, 
universals recall any one of those many. 

And of names universal, some are of more, and some 
of less extent; the larger comprehending the less large; 
and some again of etjual extent, comprehending each 
other reciprocally. As for example: the name body is 
of larger signification than the word man, and compre- 
hendeth it ; and the names man and rational, are of equal 
extent, comprehending mutually one another. But here 
we must take notice, that by a name is not always under- 
stood, as in grammar, one only word; but sometimes, 
by circumlocution, many words together. For all these 
words, he that in his actions observeth the laws of his 
country, make but one name, equivalent to this one word, 
just. 

By this imposition of names, some of larger, some 
of stricter signification, we turn the reckoning of the con- 
sequences of things imagined in the mind, into a reckon- 
ing of the consequences of appellations- For example: 
a man that hath no use of speech at all, such as is born 
and remains perfectly deaf and dumb, if he set before 
his eyes a triangle, and by it two right angles, such as 
are the corners of a square figure, he may, by meditation, 
compare and find, that the three angles of that triangle, 
are equal to those two right angles that stand by it. But 
if another triangle be shown him, different in shape from 
the former, he cannot know, without a new labour, 
whether the three angles of that also be equal to the same. 
But he that hath the use of words, when he observes, 
that such quality was consequent, not to the length of 



124 LEVIATHAN 

the sides, nor to any other particular thing in his tri- 
angle ; but only to this, that the sides were straight, and 
the angles three; and that that was all, for which he 
named it a triangle ; will boldly conclude universally, that 
such equality of angles is in all triangles whatsoever; 
and register his invention in these general terms, every 
triangle hath its three angles equal to two right angles. 
And thus the consequence found in one particular, comes 
to be registered and remembered, as a universal rule, and 
discharges our mental reckoning, of time and place, and 
delivers us from all labour of the mind, saving the first, 
and makes that which was found true here, and now, to 
be true in all times and places. 

But the use of words in registering our thoughts is 
in nothing so evident as in numbering. A natural fool 
that could never learn by heart the order of numeral 
words, as one, two, and three, may observe every stroke 
of the clock, and nod to it, or say one, one, one, but can 
never know what hour it strikes. And it seems, there was 
a time when those names of number were not in use ; and 
men were fain to apply their fingers of one or both hands, 
to those things they desired to keep account of; and that 
thence it proceeded, that now our numeral words are 
but ten, in any nation, and in some but five; and then 
they begin again. And he that can tell ten, if he recite 
them out of order, will lose himself, and not know when 
he has done. Much less will he be able to add, and sub- 
tract, and perform all other operations of arithmetic. So 
that without words there is no possibility of reckoning 
of numbers; much less of magnitudes, of swiftness, of 
force, and other things, the reckonings whereof are nec- 
essary to the being, or well-being of mankind. 

When two names are joined together into a conse- 
quence, or affirmation, as thus, a man is a living crea- 



OF SPEECH 125 

ture; or thus, if he be a man, he is a living creature; if 
the latter name, living creature, signify all that the for- 
mer name man signifieth, then the affirmation, or con- 
sequence, is true; otherwise false. For true and false 
are attributes of speech, not of things. And where 
speech is not, there is neither truth nor falsehood; error 
there may be, as when we expect that which shall not be, 
or suspect what has not been; but in neither case can a 
man be charged with untruth. 

Seeing then that truth consisteth in the right order- 
ing of names in our affirmations, a man that seeketh pre- 
cise truth had need to remember what every name he uses 
stands for, and to place it accordingly, or else he will 
find himself entangled in words, as a bird in lime twigs, 
the more he struggles the more belimed. And there- 
fore in geometry, which is the only science that it hath 
pleased God hitherto to bestow on mankind, men be- 
gin at settling the significations of their words; which 
settling of significations they call definitions, and place 
them in the beginning of their reckoning. 

By this it appears how necessary it is for any man 
that aspires to true knowledge, to examine the definitions 
of former authors; and either to correct them, where 
they are negligently set down, or to make them himself. 
For the errors of definitions multiply themselves accord- 
ing as the reckoning proceeds, and lead men into ab- 
surdities, which at last they see, but cannot avoid, 
without reckoning anew from the beginning, in which 
lies the foundation of their errors. From whence it 
happens, that they which trust to books do as they that 
cast up many little sums into a greater, without consider- 
ing whether those little sums were rightly cast up or not ; 
and at last finding the error visible, and not mistrusting 
their first grounds, know not which way to clear them- 



126 LEVIATHAN 

selves, but spend time in fluttering over their books; as 
birds that entering by the chimney, and finding them- 
selves enclosed in a chamber, flutter at the false light of 
a glass window, for want of wit to consider which way 
they came in. So that in the right definition of names 
lies the first use of speech; which is the acquisition of 
science: and in wrong, or no definitions, lies the first 
abuse ; from which proceed all false and senseless tenets ; 
which make those men that take their instruction from 
the authority of books, and not from their own meditation, 
to be as much below the condition of ignorant men, as 
men endued with true science are above it. For between 
true science and erroneous doctrines, ignorance is in the 
middle. Natural sense and imagination are not sub- 
ject to absurdity. Nature itself cannot err ; and as men 
abound in copiousness of language, so they become more 
wise, or more mad than ordinary. Nor is it possible 
without letters for any man to become either excellently 
wise, or, unless his memory be hurt by disease or ill con- 
stitution of organs, excellently foolish. For words are 
wise men's counters, they do but reckon by them; but 
they are the money of fools, that value them by the 
authority of an Aristotle, a Cicero, or a Thomas, or 
any other doctor whatsoever, if but a man. 

Subject to names, is whatsoever can enter into 
or be considered in an account, and be added one to 
another to make a sum, or subtracted one from another 
and leave a remainder. The Latins called accounts of 
money rationes, and accounting ratiocinatio; and that 
which we in bills or books of account call items, they call 
nomina, that is names; and thence it seems to proceed, 
that they extended the word ratio to the faculty of reck- 
oning in all other things. The Greeks have but one 
word, l6yo<s for both speech and reason; not that they 



OF SPEECH 127 

thought there was no speech without reason, but no 
reasoning without speech: and the act of reasoning they 
called syllogism, which signifieth summing up of the con- 
sequences of one saying to another. And because the 
same thing may enter into account for divers accidents, 
their names are, to show that diversity, diversly wrested 
and diversified. This diversity of names may be reduced 
to four general heads. 

First, a thing may enter into account for matter or 
body; as living, sensible, rational, hot, cold, moved, 
quiet; with all which names the word matter, or body, 
is understood ; all such being names of matter. 

Secondly, it may enter into account, or be considered, 
for some accident or quality which we conceive to be in 
it ; as for being moved, for being so long, for being hot, 
&c. ; and then, of the name of the thing itself, by a little 
change or wresting, we make a name for that accident, 
which we consider; and for living put into the account 
life; for moved, motion; for hot, heat; for long, length; 
and the like: and all such names are the names of the 
accidents and properties by which one matter and body 
is distinguished from another. These are called names 
abstract, because severed, not from matter, but from 
the account of matter. 

Thirdly, we bring into account the properties of our 
own bodies, whereby we make such distinction ; as when 
anything is seen by us, we reckon not the thing itself, 
but the sight, the colour, the idea of it in the fancy : and 
when anything is heard, we reckon it not, but the hear- 
ing or sound only, which is our fancy or conception of it 
by the ear; and such are names of fancies. 

Fourthly, we bring into account, consider, and give 
names, to names themselves, and to speeches: for gen- 
eral, universal, special, equivocal, are names of names. 



128 LEVIATHAN 

And affirmation, interrogation, commandment, narration, 
syllogism, sermon, oration, and many other such, are 
names of speeches. And this is all the variety of names 
positive; which are put to mark somewhat which is in 
nature, or may be feigned by the mind of man, as bodies 
that are, or may be conceived to be; or of bodies, the 
properties that are, or may be feigned to be; or words 
and speech. 

There be also other names, called negative, which are 
notes to signify that a word is not the name of the thing 
in question; as these words, nothing, no man, infinite, 
indocible, three want {our, and the like ; which are nev- 
ertheless of use in reckoning, or in correcting of reckon- 
ing, and call to mind our past cogitations, though they be 
not names of anything, because they make us refuse to 
admit of names not rightly used. 

All other names are but insignificant sounds; and 
those of two sorts. One when they are new, and yet 
their meaning not explained by definition ; whereof there 
have been abundance coined by schoolmen, and puzzled 
philosophers. 

Another, when men make a name of two names, 
whose significations are contradictory and inconsistent; 
as this name, an incorporeal body, or, which is all one, 
an incorporeal substance, and a great number more. For 
whensoever any affirmation is false, the two names of 
which it is composed, put together and made one, sig- 
nify nothing at all For example, if it be a false affirma- 
tion to say a quadrangle is round, the word round quad- 
rangle signifies nothing, but is a mere sound. So like- 
wise, if it be false to say that virtue can be poured, or 
blown up and down,, the words inpoured virtue, inblown 
znrtue, are as absurd and insignificant as a round quad- 
rangle. And therefore you shall hardly meet with a 



OF SPEECH 129 

senseless and insignificant word, that is not made up of 
some Latin or Greek names. A Frenchman seldom 
hears our Saviour called by the name of parole, but by 
the name of verbe often; yet verbe and parole differ no 
more, but that one is Latin and the other French. 

When a man, upon the hearing of any speech, hath 
those thoughts which the words of that speech and their 
connexion were ordained and constituted to signify, then 
he is said to understand it ; understanding being nothing 
else but conception caused by speech. And therefore 
if speech be peculiar to man, as for ought I know it is, 
then is understanding peculiar to him also. And there- 
fore of absurd and false affirmations, in case they be 
universal, there can be no understanding; though many 
think they understand then, when they do but repeat 
the words softly, or con them in their mind. 

What kinds of speeches signify the appetites, aver- 
sions, and passions of man's mind ; and of their use and 
abuse, I shall speak when I have spoken of the passions. 

The names of such things as affect us, that is, which 
please and displease us, because all men be not alike 
affected with the same thing, nor the same man at all 
times, are in the common discourses of men of incon- 
stant signification. For seeing all names are imposed 
to signify our conceptions, and all our affections are 
but conceptions, when we conceive the same things dif- 
ferently, we can hardly avoid different naming of them. 
For though the nature of that we conceive, be the same ; 
yet the diversity of our reception of it, in respect of dif- 
ferent constitutions of body, and prejudices of opinion, 
gives every thing a tincture of our different passions. 
And therefore in reasoning a man must take heed of 
words ; which besides the signification of what we im- 
agine of their nature, have a signification also of the na- 



130 LEVIATHAN 

ture, disposition, and interest of the speaker; such as 
are the names of virtues and vices ; for one man calleth 
wisdom, what another calleth fear; and one cruelty, what 
another justice; one prodigality, what another magna- 
nimity; and one gravity, what another stupidity, &c. 
And therefore such names can never be true grounds 
of any ratiocination. No more can metaphors, and 
tropes of speech ; but these are less dangerous, because 
they profess their inconstancy; which the other do not. 



CHAPTER V. 



OF REASON AND SCIENCE. 



When a man reasoneth, he does nothing else but con- 
ceive a sum total, from addition of parcels ; or conceive a 
remainder, from subtraction of one sum from another; 
which, if it be done by words, is conceiving of the conse- 
quence of the names of all the parts, to the name of the 
whole; or from the names of the whole and one part, 
to the name of the other part. And though in some things, 
as in numbers, besides adding and subtracting, men name 
other operations, as multiplying and dividing, yet 
they are the same; for multiplication, is but ad- 
ding together of things equal ; and division, but subtract- 
ing of one thing, as often as we can. These operations 
are not incident to numbers only, but to all manner 
of things that can be added together, and taken one 
out of another. For as arithmeticians teach to add 
and subtract in numbers; so the geometricians teach the 
same in lines, -figures, solid and superficial, angles, pro- 
portions, times, degrees of swiftness, force, power, and 
the like ; the logicians teach the same in consequences of 
zvords; adding together two names to make an affir- 
mation, and two affirmations to make a syllogism; and 
many syllogisms to make a demonstration; and from the 
sum, or conclusion of a syllogism, they subtract one 
proposition to find the other. Writers of politics add 
together pactions to find men's duties; and lawyers, laws 
and facts, to find what is right and wrong in the actions 
of private men. In sum, in what matter soever there 
is place for addition and subtraction, there also is place 
for reason; and where these have no place, there reason 
has nothing at all to do. 



132 LEVIATHAN 

Out of all which we may define, that is to say de- 
termine, what that is, which is meant by this word rea- 
son, when we reckon it amongst the faculties of the mind. 
For reason, in this sense, is nothing but reckoning, that 
is adding and subtracting, of the consequences of general 
names agreed upon for the marking and signifying of 
our thoughts ; I say marking them when we reckon by 
ourselves, and signifying, when we demonstrate or ap- 
prove our reckonings to other men. 1 

And, as in arithmetic, unpractised men must, and 
professors themselves may often, err, and cast up false; 
so also in any other subject of reasoning, the ablest, most 
attentive, and most practised men may deceive themselves, 
and infer false conclusions; not but that reason itself is 
always right reason, as well as arithmetic is a certain 
and infallible art : but no one man's reason, nor the reason 
of any one number of men, makes the certainty ; no more 
than an account is therefore well cast up, because a 
great many men have unanimously approved it. And 
therefore, as when there is a controversy in an account, 
the parties must by their own accord, set up, for right 
reason, the reason of some arbitrator, or judge, to whose 
sentence they will both stand, or their controversy must 
either come to blows, or be undecided, for want of a 
right reason constituted by nature; so it is also in all 
debates of what kind soever. And when men that 
think themselves wiser than all others, clamour and de- 
mand right reason for judge, yet seek no more, but that 
things should be determined, by no other men's reason 
but their own, it is as intolerable in the society of men, as 
it is in play after trump is turned, to use for trump on 
every occasion, that suite whereof they have most in 



1 Compare above Elements of Philosophy, p. 4f. 



OF REASON AND SCIENCE 133 

their hand. For they do nothing else, that will have 
every of their passions, as it comes to bear sway in them, 
to be taken for right reason, and that in their own con- 
troversies : bewraying their want of right reason, by 
the claim they lay to it. 2 



'Compare below p. 266, n. Also Philosophical Rudiments, 
(M. II, 268). "Furthermore, all these things, to mild castles, 
houses, temples ; to move, carry, take away mighty v*eights ; to 
send securely over seas ; to contrive engines, serving for all 
manner of uses ; to be well acquainted with the face of the whole 
world, the courses of the stars, the seasons of the year, <he ac- 
counts of the times, and the nature of all things ; to understand 
perfectly all natural and civil rights; and all manner of sciences, 
which, -omprehended under the title of philosophy, are necessary 
partly to live, partly to live well ; I say, the understanding of 
these (because Christ hath not delivered it) is to be learnt from 
reasoning; that is to say, by making necessary consequences, hav- 
ing first taken the beginning from experience. But men's reason- 
ings are sometimes right, sometimes wrong; and consequently, 
that which is concluded and held for a truth, is sometimes truth, 
sometimes error. Now errors, even about these philosophical 
points, do sometimes public hurt, and give occasions of great 
seditions and injuries. It is needful therefore, as oft as any 
controversy ariseth in these matters contrary to public good 
and common peace, that there be somebody to judge of the reason- 
ing, that is to say, whether that which is inferred, be rightly 
inferred or not; that so the controversy may be ended. But 
there are no rules given by Christ to this purpose, neither came 
he into the world to teach logic. It remains therefore that the 
judges of such controversies, be the same with those whom 
God by nature had instituted before, namely, those who in each 
city are constituted by the sovereign. Moreover, if a controversy 
be raised of the accurate and proper signification, that is, the 
definition of those names or appellations which are commonly 
used ; insomuch as it is needful for the peace of the city, or 
the distribution of right, to be determined ; the determination will 
belong to the city. For men. by reasoning, do search out 
such kind of definitions in their observation of diverse concep- 
tions, for the signification whereof those appellations were used 
at diverse times and io r diverse causes. But the decision of 
the question,, whether a man do reason rightly, belongs to the 
city. For example, if a woman bring forth a child of an un- 
wonted shape, and the law forbid to kill a man; the question 
is, whether the child be a man. It is demanded therefore, what 
a man is. No man doubts but the city shall judge it, and that 
without taking an account of Aristotle's definition, that man is a 
rational creature." Also De Corpore Politico, CM. IV, 225). 



J34 LEVIATHAN 

The use and end of reason, is not the finding of the 
sum and truth of one, or a few consequences, remote 
from the first definitions, and settled significations of 
names, but to begin at these, and proceed from one con- 
sequence to another. For there can be no certainty of 
the last conclusion, without a certainty of all those af- 
firmations and negations, on which it was grounded and 
inferred. As when a master of a family, in taking an 
account, casteth up the sums of all the bills of expense 
into one sum, and not regarding how each bill is sum- 
ed up, by those that give them in account ; nor what it is 
he pays for; he advantages himself no more, than if he 
allowed the account in gross, trusting to every of the 



"In the state of nature, where every man is his own judge, and 
differeth from other concerning the names and appellations of 
things, and from those differences arise quarrels and breach of 
peace, it was necessary there should be a common measure of all 
things, that might fall in controversy. As for example ; of what 
is to be called right, what good, what virtue, what much, what 
little, what meum and tutim, what a pound, what a quart, &c. 
For in these things private judgments may differ, and beget con- 
troversy. This common measure, some say, is right reason: 
with whom I should consent, if there were any such thing to be 
found or known in rerum natura. But commonly they that call 
for right reason to decide any controversy, do mean their own. 
But this is certain, seeing right reason is not existent, the rea- 
son of some man or men must supply the place thereof; and that 
man or men, is he or they, that have the sovereign power, as 
hath been already proved ; and consequently the civil laws are 
to all subjects the measures of their actions, whereby to deter- 
mine, whether they be right or wrong, profitable or unprofitable, 
virtuous or vicious ; and by them the use and definition of all 
names not agreed upon, and tending to controversy, shall be 
established." Compare also above Elements of Philosophy, Ch. 
I, Sec. 2, with notes, p. 2f; and Human Nature. (M. IV, 24). 
"Now when a man reasoneth from principles that are found 
indubitable by experience, all deceptions of sense and equivoca- 
tion of words avoided, the conclusion he maketh is said to be 
according to right reason: but when from his conclusion a 
man may, by good ratiocination, derive that which is contra- 
dictory to any evident truth whatsoever, then he is said to have 
concluded against reason: and such a conclusion is called ob~ 
-vrdity" 



OF REASON AND SCIENCE 135 

accountants' skill and honesty : so also in reasoning of all 
other things, he that takes up conclusions on the trust of 
authors, and doth not fetch them from the first items 
in every reckoning, which are the significations of names 
settled by defintions, loses his labour; and does not 
know anything, but only believeth. 

When a man reckons without the use of words, which 
may be done in particular things, as when upon the sight 
of any one thing, we conjecture what was likely to have 
preceded, or is likely to follow upon it ; if that which he 
thought likely to follow, follows not, or that which he 
thought likely to have preceded it, hath not preceded it, 
this is called error; to which even the most prudent men 
are subject. But when we reason in words of general 
signification, and fall upon a general inference which 
is false, though it be commonly called error, it is in- 
deed an absurdity, or senseless speech. For error is 
but a deception, in presuming that somewhat is passed, 
or to come ; of which, though it were not past, or not to 
come, yet there was no impossibility discoverable. But 
when we make a general assertion, unless it be a true one, 
the possibility of it is inconceivable. And words where- 
by we conceive nothing but the sound, are those we call 
absurd, insignificant, and nonsense. And therefore if 
a man should talk to me of a round quadrangle ; or, ac- 
cidents of bread in cheese; or immaterial substances; or 
of a free subject; a free will; or any free, but free from 
being hindered by opposition, I should not say he were in 
an error, but that his words were without meaning, that 
is to say, absurd. 

I have said before, in the second chapter, that a man 
did excel all other animals in this faculty, that when he 
conceived any thing whatsoever, he was apt to inquire the 
concequences of it, and what effects he could do with 



136 LEVIATHAN 

it. And now I add this other degree of the same excel- 
lence, that he can by words reduce the consequences he 
finds to general rules, called theorems, or aphorisms; that 
is, he can reason, or reckon, not only in number, but in all 
other things, whereof one may be added unto, or subtract- 
ed from another. 

But this privilege is allayed by another; and that 
is, by the privilege of absurdity; to which no living 
creature is subject, but man only. And of men, those are 
of all most subject to it, that profess philosophy. For it is 
most true that Cicero saith of them somewhere ; that there 
can be nothing so absurd, but may be found in the books 
of philosophers. And the reason is manifest. For there 
is not one of them that begins his ratiocination from the 
definitions, or explications of the names they are to use ; 
which is a method that hath been used only in geometry ; 
whose conclusions have thereby been made indisputable. 

I. The first cause of absurd conclusions I ascribe to 
the want of method ; in that they begin not their ratiocin- 
ation from definitions; that is, from settled significations 
of their words : as if they could cast account, without 
knowing the value of the numeral words, one, two, and 
three. 

And whereas all bodies enter into account upon divers 
considerations, which I have mentioned in the precedent 
chapter; these considerations being diversely named, 
divers absurdities proceed from the confusion, and unfit 
connexion of their names into assertions. And therefore, 

II. The second cause of absurd assertions, I ascribe 
to the giving of names of bodies to accidents; or of acci- 
dents to bodies; as they do, that say, faith is infused, or 
inspired; when nothing can be poured, or breathed into 
anything, but body; and that, extension is body; that 
phantasms are spirits, &c. 



OF REASON AND SCIENCE 137 

in. The third I ascribe to the giving of the names of 
the accidents of bodies without us, to the accidents of our 
own bodies; as they do that say, the colour is in the 
body; the sound is in the air, &c. 

iv. The fourth, to the giving of the names of bodies 
to names, or speeches; as they do that say, that there be 
things universal; that a living creature is genus, or a 
general thing, &c . 

v. The fifth, to the giving of the names of accidents 
to names and speeches; as they do that say, the nature of 
a thing is its definition; a man's command is his will; 
and the like. 

vi. The sixth, to the use of metaphors, tropes, and 
other rhetorical figures, instead of words proper. For 
though it be lawful to say, for example, in common 
speech, the way goeth, or leadeth hither, or thither; the 
proverb says this or that, whereas ways cannot go, nor 
proverbs speak; yet in reckoning, and seeking of truth, 
such speeches are not to be admitted. 

vii. The seventh, to names that signify nothing; but 
are taken up, and learned by rote from the schools, as 
hypostatical, transubstantiate, consubstantiate, eternal- 
now, and the like canting of schoolmen. 3 

To him that can avoid these things it is not easy to 
fall into any absurdity, unless it be by the length of an ac- 
count ; wherein he may perhaps forget what went before. 
For all men by nature reason alike, and well, when they 
have good principles. For who is so stupid, as both to 
mistake in geometry, and also to persist in it, when an- 
other detects his error to him? 

By this it appears that reason is not, as sense and mem- 
ory, born with us ; nor gotten by experience only, as pru- 



8 Compare above, Elements of Philosophy, p. 39f. 



138 LEVIATHAN 

dence is; but attained by industry; first in apt imposing 
of names; and secondly by getting a good and orderly 
method in proceeding from the elements, which are names, 
to assertions made by connexion of one of them to anoth- 
er; and so to syllogisms, which are the connexions of 
one assertion to another, till we come to a knowledge of 
all the consequences of names appertaining to the subject 
in hand; and that is it, men call science. And whereas 
sense and memory are but knowledge of fact, which is a 
thing past and irrevocable. Science is the knowledge of 
consequences, and dependance of one fact upon another : 4 
by which, out of that we can presently do,we know how 
to do something else when we will, or the like another 
time; because when we see how anything comes about, 
upon what causes, and by what manner; when the like 
causes come into our power, we see how to make it pro- 
duce the like effects. 

Children therefore are not endued with reason at all, 
till they have attained the use of speech; but are called 
reasonable creatures, for the possibility apparent of hav- 
ing the use of reason in time to come. And the most part 
of men, though they have the use of reasoning a little 
way, as in numbering to some degree ; yet it serves them 
to little use in common life ; in which they govern them- 
selves, some better, some worse, according to their dif- 
ferences of experience, quickness of memory, and incli- 
nations to several ends; but specially according to good 
or evil fortune, and the errors of one another. For as 
for science, or certain rules of their actions, they are so 
far from it, they know not what it is. Geometry they 
have thought conjuring; but for other sciences, they who 



* Compare Leviathan (M. Ill, 368). "Reason serves only to 
convince the truth, not of fact, but, of consequence." 



OF REASON AND SCIENCE 139 

have not been taught the beginnings and some progress 
in them, that they may see how they be acquired and gen- 
erated, are in this point like children, that having no 
thought of generation, are made believe by the women that 
their brothers and sisters are not born, but found in the 
garden. 

But yet they that have no science, are in better, and 
nobler condition, with their natural prudence ; than men, 
that by mis-reasoning, or by trusting them that reason 
wrong, fall upon false and absurd general rules. For 
ignorance of causes, and of rules, does not set men so far 
out of their way, as relying on false rules, and taking for 
causes of what they aspire to, those that are not so, but 
rather causes of the contrary. 

To conclude, the light of human minds is perspicu- 
ous words, but by exact definitions first snuffed, and 
purged from ambiguity; reason is the pace; increase of 
science, the way; and the benefit of mankind, the end. 
And, on the contrary, metaphors, and senseless and am- 
biguous words, are like ignes fatui; and reasoning upon 
them is wandering amongst innumerable absurdities ; and 
their end, contention and sedition, or contempt. 

As much experience is prudence; so, is much science 
sapience. For though we usually have one name of 
wisdom for them both, yet the Latins did always distin- 
guish between prndentia and sapientia; ascribing the for- 
mer to experience, the latter to science. But to make 
their difference appear more clearly, let us suppose one 
man endued with an excellent natural use and dexterity 
in handling his arms ; and another to have added to that 
dexterity, an acquired science, of where he can offend, 
or be offended by his adversary, in every possible posture 
or guard: the ability of the former, would be to the ability 
of the latter, as prudence to sapience; both useful; but 



X4o LEVIATHAN 

the latter infallible. But they that trusting only to the 
authority of books, follow the blind blindly, are like him 
that, trusting to the false rules of a master of fence, ven- 
tures presumptuously upon an adversary, that either kills 
or disgraces him. 5 



"Compare above, p. 47, n. 1, and below Leviathan, Chapters 
VII and IX. Also Human Nature, (M. IV, 28, 50). "Knowl- 
edge thereof, which we call science, I define to be evidence of 
truth, from some beginning or principle of sense: for the truth 
of a proposition is never evident, until we conceive the meaning 
of the words or terms whereof it consisteth, which are always 
conceptions of the mind : nor can we remember those conceptions, 
without the thing that produced the same by our senses. The 
first principle of knowledge is, that we have such and such con- 
ceptions; the second, that we have thus and thus named the 
things whereof they are conceptions; the third is, that we have 
joined those names in such manner as to make true propositions ; 
the fourth and last is, that we have joined those propositions 
in such manner as they be concluding, and the truth of the 
conclusion said to be known. And of these two kinds of knowl- 
edge, whereof the former is experience of fact, and the latter 
evidence of truth; as the former, if it be great, is called pru- 
dence; so the latter, if it be much, hath usually been called, both 
by ancient and modern writers, sapience or wisdom : and of this 
latter, man only is capable; of the former, brute beasts also 
participate. * * * * Forasmuch as all knowledge be- 
ginneth from experience, therefore also new experience is the 
beginning of new knowledge, and the increase of experience the 
beginning of the increase of knowledge. Whatsoever therefore 
happeneth new to a man, giveth him matter of hope of know- 
ing somewhat that he knew not before. And this hope and 
expectation of future knowledge from anything that happeneth 
new and strange, is that passion which we commonly call 
admiration; and the same considered as appetite, is called cur- 
iosity, which is appetite of knowledge. As in the discerning 
of faculties, man leavcth all community with beasts at the fac- 
ulty of imposing names ; so also doth he surmount their nature 
at this passion of curiosity. For when a beast seeth anything new 
and strange to him, he considereth it so far only as to discern 
whether it be likely to serve his turn, or hurt him, and according- 
ly approacheth nearer to it, or fleeth from it: whereas man, who in 
most events remembereth in what manner they were caused and 
begun, looketh for the cause and beginning of everything that 
ariseth new unto him. And from this passion of admiration and 
curiosity, have arisen not only the invention of names, but also 
supposition of such causes of all things as they thought might 



OF REASON AND SCIENCE 141 

The signs of science are some, certain and infallible; 
some, uncertain. Cercain, when he that pretendeth the 
science of anything, can teach the same; that is to say, 
demonstrate the truth thereof perspicuously to another; 
uncertain, when only some particular events answer to 
his pretence, and upon many occasions prove so as he 
says they must. Signs of prudence are a!l uncertain ; be- 



produce them. And from this beginning is derived all philoso- 
phy; as astronomy from the admiration of the course of heav- 
en; natural philosophy from the "trange effects of the elements 
and other bodies. And from the degrees of curiosity, proceed also 
the degrees of knowledge amongst men: for, to a man in the 
chase of riches or authority, (which in respect of knowledge are 
but sensuality) it is a diversity of little pleasure, whether it be the 
motion of the sun or the earth that maketh the day, or to enter 
into other contemplations of any strange accident, otherwise than 
whether it conduce or not to the end he pursueth. Because 
curiosity is delight, therefore also novelty is so, but especially 
that novelty from which a man conceiveth an opinion true or false 
of bettering his own estate ; for, in such case, they stand affected 
with the hope that all gamesters have while the cards are shuf- 
fling." Note the limitation of knowledge expressed in Philosoph- 
ical Rudiments, (M k II, 217). "It is supposed that all things in 
the natural kingdom of God are inquired into by reason only, 
that is to say, out of the principles of natural science. But we are 
so far off by these to attain to the knowledge of the nature of 
God, that we cannot so much as reach to the full understanding 
of all the qualities of our own bodies, or of any other creatures. 
Wherefore there comes nothing from these disputes, but a rash 
imposition of names to the divine Majesty according to the small 
measure of our conceptions." Also Leviathan (M. Ill, 353). 
"Disputing of God's nature is contrary to his honour : for it is 
supposed, that in this natural kingdom of God, there is no other 
way to know anything, but by natural reason, that is, from the 
principles of natural science ; which are so far from teaching us 
anything of God's nature, as they cannot teach us our own nature, 
nor the nature of the smallest creature living. And therefore, 
when men out of the principles of natural reason, dispute of 
the attributes of God, they but dishonour him : for in the attri- 
butes which we give to God, we are not to consider the signi- 
fication of philosophical truth ; but the signification of pious in- 
tention, to do him the greatest honour we are able. From the 
want of which consideration, have proceeded the volumes of dis- 
putation about the nature of God, that tend not to his honour, 
but to the honour of our own wits and learning; and are 
nothing else but inconsiderate and vain abuses of his sacred 
name." 



142- LEVIATHAN 

cause to observe by experience, and remember all circum- 
stances that may alter the success, is impossible. But 
in any business, whereof a man has not infallible science 
to proceed by; to forsake his own natural judgment, and 
be guided by general sentences read in authors, and sub- 
ject to many exceptions, is a sign of folly, and generally 
scorned by the name of pedantry. And even of those men 
themselves, that in councils of the commonwealth love 
to show their reading of politics and history, very few do 
it in their domestic affairs, where their particular interest 
is concerned; having prudence enough for their private 
affairs: but in public they study more the reputation of 
their own wit, than the success of another's business. 



CHAPTER VI. 

OF THE INTERIOR BEGINNINGS OF VOLUNTARY MOTIONS; 
COMMONLY CALLED THE PASSIONS; AND THE 
SPEECHES BY WHICH THEY ARE EXPRESSED. 

There be in animals, two sorts of motions peculiar to 
them: one called vital; begun in generation, and con- 
tinued without interruption through their whole life; 
such as are the course of the blood, the pulse, the breath- 
ing, the concoction, nutrition, excretion, &c, to which 
motions there needs no help of imagination: the other 
is animal motion, otherwise called voluntary motion; as 
to go, to speak, to move any of our limbs, in such manner 
as is first fancied in our minds. 1 That sense is motion 



Compare Elements of Philosophy, (M. I. 407). "Now 
vital motion is the motion of the blood, perpetually cir- 
culating (as hath been shown from many infallible signs and 
marks by Dr. Harvey, the first observer of it) in the veins and 
arteries. Which motion, when it is hindered by some other mo- 
tion made by the action of s.ensible objects, may be restored again 
cither by bending or setting straight the parts of the body; 
which is done when the, spirits are carried now into these, now 
into other nerves, till the pain, as far as is possible, be quite taken 
away. But if vital motion be helped by motion made by sense, 
then the parts of the organ will be disposed to guide the spirits 
in such manner as conduceth most to the preservation and aug- 
mentation of that motion, by the help of the nerves. And in 
animal motion this is the very first endeavour, and found even 
in the embryo ; which while it is in the womb, moveth its limbs 
with voluntary motion, for the avoiding of whatsoever troubleth 
it, or for the pursuing of what pleaseth it. And this first en- 
deavor, when it tends towards such things as are known by 
experience to be pleasant, is called appetite, that is, an approach- 
ing ; and when it shuns what is troublesome, aversion, or flying 
from it. And little infants, at the beginning and as soon as they 
are born, have appetite to very few things, as also they avoid very 
few, by reason of their want of experience and memory ; and 
therefore they have not so great a variety of animal motion as 
we see in those that are more grown. For it is not possible, 
without such knowledge as is derived from sense, that is., without 



144 LEVIATHAN 

in the organs and interior parts of man's body, caused by 
the action of the things we see, hear, &c. ; and that fancy 
is but the relics of the same motion, remaining after 
sense, has been already said in the first and second chap- 
ters. And because going, speaking, and the like volunta- 
ry motions, depend always upon a precedent thought of 
whither, which way, and what; it is evident, that the im- 
agination is the first internal beginning of all voluntary 
motion. And although unstudied men do not conceive 
any motion at all to be there, where the thing moved 
is invisible ; or the space it is moved in is, for the short- 
ness of it, insensible; yet that doth not hinder, but that 
such motions are. For let a space be never so little, that 
which is moved over a greater space, whereof that little 
one is part, must first be moved over that. These small 
beginnings of motion, within the body of man, before 



experience and memory, to know what will prove pleasant or 
hurtful; only there is some place for conjecture from the looks 
or aspects of things. And hence it is, that though they do not 
know what may do them good or harm, yet sometimes they ap- 
proach and sometimes retire from the same thing, as their doubt 
prompts them. But afterwards, by accustoming themselves by 
little and little, they come to know readily what is to be pursued 
and what to be avoided ; and also to have a ready use of their 
nerves and other organs, in the pursuing and avoiding of good 
and bad. Wherefore appetite and aversion are the first en- 
deavours of animal motion. Consequent to this first endeavour, 
is the impulsion into the nerves and retraction again of animal 
spirits, of which it is necessary there be some receptacle or place 
near the original of the nerves ; and this motion or endeavour is 
followed by a swelling and relaxation of the muscles ; and last- 
ly, these are followed by contraction and extension of the limbs, 
which is animal motion." Also Human Nature, (M. IV, 30). 
"That power of the mind which we call motive, differeth from 
the power motive of the body ; for the power motive of the body 
is that by which it moveth other bodies, and we call strength: 
but the power motive of the mind, is that by which the mind 
giveth animal motion to that body wherein it existeth ; the acts 
hereof are our affections and passions, of which I am to speak in 
general." 



OF PASSIONS I4S 

they appear in walking, speaking, striking, and other 
visible actions,, are commonly called endeavour. 2 

This endeavour, when it is toward something which 
causes it, is called appetite, or desire; the latter, being 
the general name ; and the other oftentimes restrained to 
signify the desire of food, namely hunger and thirst. 
And when the endeavour is fromward something, it is gen- 
erally called aversion. These words, appetite and aver- 
sion, we have from the Latins; and they both of them 
signify the motions, one of approaching, the other of 
retiring. So also do the Greek words for the same, which 
are 6pivj and d<pop/nj. For nature itself does often 
press upon men those truths, which afterwards, when 
they look for somewhat beyond nature, they stumble at. 
For the Schools find in mere appetite to go, or move, no 
actual motion at all : but because some motion they must 
acknowledge, they call it metaphorical motion; which 



* Compare Elements of Philosophy. (M. I, 206). "I de- 
fine endeavour to be motion made in less space and time 
than can be given; that is, less than can be determined or as- 
signed by exposition or number; that is, motion made through 
the length of a point, and in an instant or point of time. For 
the explaining of which definition it must be remembered, that 
by a point is not to be understood that which has^ no quantity^ or 
which cannot by any means be divided ; for there is no such thing 
in nature ; but that, whose quantity is not at all considered, that 
is, whereof neither quantity nor any part is computed in demon- 
stration ; so that a point is not to be taken for an indivisible, but 
for an undivided thing ; as also an instant is to be taken for an 
undivided, and not for an indivisible time. In like manner, en- 
deavour is to be conceived as motion; but so as that neither the 
quantity of the time in which, nor of the line in which it is made, 
may in demonstration be at all brought into comparison with the 
quantity of that time, or of that line of which it is a part. And 
yet, as a point may be compared with a point, so one endeavour 
may be compared with another endeavour, and one may be found 
to be greater or less than another." Also Decameron Physiolog- 
icum, (M. VII. 87). "In all motion, as in all quantity, you must 
take the beginning of your reckoning from the least supposed mo- 
tion. And this I call the first endeavour of the movement; 
which endeavour, how weak soever, is also motion." 



-146 LEVIATHAN 

is but an absurd speech : for though words may be called 
metaphorical; bodies and motions can not. 

That which men desire, they are also said to love: 
and to hate those things for which they have aversion. 
So that desire and love are the same thing; save that 
by desire, we always signify the absence of the object; by 
love, most commonly the presence of the same- So also 
by aversion, we signify the absence; and by hate, the 
presence of the object. 

Of appetites and aversions, some are born with men; 
as appetite of food, appetite of excretion, and exonera- 
tion, which may also and more properly be called aver- 
sions, from somewhat they feel in their bodies; and 
some other appetites, not many. The rest, which are 
appetites of particular things, proceed from experience, 
and trial of their effects upon themselves or other men. 
For of things we know not at all, or believe not to be, 
we can have no further desire, than to taste and try. 
But aversion we have for things, not only which we 
know have hurt us, but also that we do not know whether 
they will hurt us, or not. 

Those things which we neither desire, nor hate, we 
are said to contemn; contempt being nothing else but 
an immobility, or contumacy of the heart, in resisting the 
action of certain things; and proceeding from that the 
heart is already moved otherwise, by other more potent 
objects ; or from want of experience of them. 

And because the constitution of a man's body is in 
continual mutation, it is impossible that all the same 
things should always cause in him the same appetites, 
and aversions : much less can all men consent, in the 
desire of almost any one and the same object. 

But whatsoever is the object of any man's appetite 
or desire, that is it which he for his part calleth good: and 



OF PASSIONS 147 

the object of his hate and aversion, hate and of his con- 
tempt, vile and inconsiderable. For these words of good, 
evil, and contemptible, are ever used with relation to 
the person that useth them: there being nothing simply 
and absolutely so; nor any common rule of good and 
evil, to be taken from the nature of the objects themselves ; 
but from the person of the man, where there is no com- 
monwealth ; or, in a commonwealth, from the person that 
representeth it ; or from an arbitrator or judge, whom men 
disagreeing shall by consent set up , and make his sentence 
the rule thereof. 3 



'Compare below p. 309, Sec. 31. Also Philosophical Rudi- 
ments, (M. II, y7). ''Since it no less, nay, it much more con- 
duceth to peace, to prevent brawls from arising than to appease 
them being risen; and that all controversies are bred from hence, 
that the opinions of men differ concerning mcum and tuum, just 
and unjust, profitable and unprofitable, good and evil, honest and 
dishonest, and the like ; which every man esteems according to 
his own judgment: it belongs to the same chief power to make 
some common rules for all men, and to declare them publicly, by 
which every man may know what may be called his, what an- 
other's, what just, what unjust, what honest, what dishonest, what 
good, what evil ; that is summarily, what is to be done, what to 
be avoided in our common course of life. But those rules and 
measures are usually called the civil laws, or the laws of the city, 
as being the commands of him who hath the supreme power in 
the city. And the civil laws (that we may define them) are 
nothing else but the commands of him zvho hath the chief author- 
ity in the city, for direction of the future actions of his citizens." 
(M. II, 150). "But one and the first which disposeth them to 
sedition, is this, that the knoivlcdge of good and evil belongs to 
each single man. In ihe state of nature indeed, where every man 
lives by equal right, and has not by any mutual pacts submitted 
to the command of others, we have granted this to be true. * * * 
But in the civil state it is false. For it was shown that the civil 
laws were the rules of good and evil, just and unjust, honest and 
dishonest; that therefore what the legislator commands, must be 
held for good, and what ne forbids for evil. And the legislator 
is ever that person who hath the supreme power in the common- 
weal, that is to say, the monarch in a monarchy. We have con- 
firmed the same truth in chap. XI, art. 2, out of the words of Solo- 
mon. For if private men may pursue that as good and shun that 
as evil, which appears to ihem to be so, to what end serve those 
words of his: Give therefore unto thy servant an understanding 



148 LEVIATHAN 

The Latin tongue has two words, whose significations 
approach to those of good and evil ; but are not pre- 
cisely the same; and those are pulchrum and turpe. 
Whereof the former signifies that, which by some ap- 
parent signs promiseth good; and the latter, that which 
promiseth evil. But in our tongue we have 
not so general names to express them by. But for 
pulchrum we say in some things, fair; in others, beauti- 
ful, or handsome, or gallant, or honourable, or comely, or 
amiable; and for turpe, foul, deformed, ugly, base, nau- 
seous, and the like, as the subject shall require; all which 



heart, to judge thy people, that I may discern between good and 
evil? Since therefore it belongs to kings to discern between 
good and evil, wicked are those, though usual, sayings, that he 
only is a king who does righteously, and that kings must not 
be obeyed unless they command us just things; and many other 
such like. Before there was any government, just and unjust 
had no being, their nature only being relative to some command : 
and every action in its own nature is mdifferent ; that it becomes 
just or unjust, proceeds from the right of the magistrate. Le- 
gitimate kings therefore make the things they command just, by 
commanding them, and those which 'hey forbid, unjust, by for- 
bidding them. But private men, while they assume to themselves 
the knowledge of good and evil, desire to be even as kings; 
which cannot be with the safety of the commonweal. The most 
ancient of all God's commands is, (Gen. ii. 17) : Thou shalt 
tot eat of the tree of knowledge of good and evil: and the most 
ancient of all diabolical temptations, (Gen. iii. 5) : Ye shall be as 
gods, knowing good and evil; and God's expostulation with man. 
(verse 11) : Who told thee that thou wert naked? Hast tltou 
eaten of the tree, whereof I commanded thee that thou shouldst 
not eat? As if he had said, how comest thou to judge that 
nakedness, wherein it seemed good to me to create thee, to be 
shameful, except thou have arrogated to thyself the knowledge 
of good end evil''' (M. 11. 196.) "We all measure good and 
evil by the pleasure or pain we either feel at present, or expect 
nereafter." Also below p. 203, and Leviathan, (M. Ill, 680). 
"Aristotle, and other heathen philosophers, define good and evil, 
by the appetite of men; and well enough, as long as we consider 
them governed every one by his own law ; for in the condition 
of men that have no other law but their own appetites, there 
:an be .10 general rule of good, and evil actions. But in a com- 
monwealth this measure is false: not the appetite of private 
men, but the law,, which is the will and appetite of the state, is 



OF PASSIONS 149 

words, in their proper places, signify nothing else but 
the mien, or countenance, that promiseth good and evil. 
So that of good there be three kinds; good in the 
promise, that is pulchram; good in effect, as the end 
desired, which is called jucundum, delightful; and good 
as the means, which is called utile, profitable; and as 
many of evil : for evil in promise, is that they call turpe; 
evil in effect, and end, is molestum, unpleasant, trouble- 
some; and evil in the means, inutile, unprofitable, hurt- 
ful. 



the measure. And yet is this doctrine still practiced ; and men 
judge the goodness or wickedness of their own, and of other 
men's actions, and of the actions of the commonwealth itself, 
by their own passions ; and no man calleth good or evil, but that 
which is so in his own eyes, without any regard at all to the pub- 
lic laws; except only monks, and friars, that are bound by vow 
to that simple obedience to their superior, to which every 
subject ought to think himself bound by the law of nature 
to the civil sovereign. And this private measure of good, 
is a doctrine, not only vain, but also pernicious to the pub- 
lic state." Also Human Nature, (M. IV. 32). "Every man, 
for his own part, calleth that which pleaseth, and is delight- 
ful to himself, good; and that evil which displeaseth him: in- 
somuch that while every man differ eth from another in con- 
stitution, they differ also from one another concerning the 
common distinction of good and evil. Nor is there any such 
thing as absolute goodness, considered without relation : for even 
the goodness which we apprehend in God Almighty, is his 
goodness to us. And as we call good and evil the things that 
please and displease ; so call we goodness and badness, the qual- 
ities or powers whereby they do it : and the signs of that good- 
ness are called by the Latins in one word pulchritudo, and the 
signs of evil, turpitudo; to which we have no words precisely 
answerable." Also De Cor pore Politico, (M. IV, 109-111). 
"Every man by natural passion, calleth that good which pleaseth 
him for the present, or so far forth as he can foresee ; and in like 
manner, that which displeaseth him, evil. And therefore he that 
foreseeth the whole way to his preservation, which is the end 
that every one by nature aimeth at, must also call it good, and 
the contrary evil. And this is that good and evil, which not every 
man in passion calleth so, but all men by reason. And therefore 
the fulfilling of all these laws is good in reason, and the breaking 
of them evil. And so also the habit, or disposition, or inten- 
tion to fulfill them good ; and the neglect of them evil. And from 



150 LEVIATHAN 

As, in sense, that which is really within us, is, as I 
have said before, only motion, caused by the action of 
external objects, but in apparence; to the sight, light 
and colour ; to the ear, sound ; to the nostril, odour, &c. : 
so, when the action of the same object is continued from 
the eyes, ears, and other organs to the heart, the real 
effect there is nothing but motion, or endeavour; which 
consisteth in appetite, or aversion, to or from the object 
moving. But the apparence, or sense of that motion, is 
that we either call delight, or trouble- of mind. 



hence cometh that distinction of malum poenae, and malum 
culpae ; for malum poenae is any pain or molestation of the mind 
whatsoever; but malum culpae is that action which is contrary 
to reason and the law of nature : as also the habit of doing ac- 
cording to these and other laws of nature, that tend to our pres- 
ervation, is that we call virtue; and the habit of doing the con- 
trary, vice. As for example, justice is that habit by which we 
stand to covenants, injustice the contrary vice; equity that habit 
by which we allow equality of nature, arrogancy the contrary vice ; 
gratitude the habit whereby we requite the benefit and trust of 
others, ingratitude the contrary vice ; temperance the habit by 
which we abstain from all things that tend to our destruction, in- 
temperance the contrary vice; prudence, the same with virtue in 
general. As for the common opinion, that virtue consisteth in 
mediocrity, and vice in extremes, I see no ground for it, nor can 
find any such mediocrity. Courage may be virtue, when the dar- 
ing is extreme, if the cause be good, and extreme fear no vice 
when the danger is extreme. To give a man more than his due, 
is no injustice, though it be to give him less: and in gifts it is 
not the sum that maketh liberality, but the reason. And so in 
all other virtues and vices. I know that this doctrine of medi- 
ocrity is Aristotle's, but his opinions concerning virtue and vice, 
are no other than those, which were received then, and are still 
by the generality of men unstudied, and therefore not very likely 
to be accurate. The sum of virtue is to be sociable with them 
that will be sociable, and formidable to them that will not. 
And the same is the sum of the law of nature: for in being 
sociable, the law of nature taketh place by way of peace and 
society ; and to be formidable, is the law of nature in war, where 
to be feared is a protection a man hath from his own power : 
and as the former consisteth in actions of equity and justice, the 
latter consisteth in actions of honour. And equity, justice, 
and honour, contain all virtues whatsoever." Also Questions 
Concerning Liberty, (M. V, 192). "There hath been in the 



OF PASSIONS 151 

This motion, which is called appetite, and for the ap- 
parence of it delight, and pleasure, seemeth to be a cor- 
roboration of vital motion, and a help thereunto; and 
therefore such things as caused delight, were not im- 
properly called jucunda, a juvando, from helping or forti- 
fying; and the contrary, molesta, offensive, from hin- 
dering, and troubling the motion vital. 

Pleasure therefore, or delight, is the apparence, or 
sense of good ; and molestation, or displeasure, the ap- 
parence, or sense of evil. And consequently all appetite, 



Schools derived from Aristotle's Metaphysics, an old proverb 
rather than an axiom: ens, bonum, et verum convertuntur. 
From hence the Bishop hath taken this notion of a metaphys- 
ical goodness, and his doctrine that whatsoever hath a being 
is good; and by this interpreteth the words of Gen. i. 31 : God 
saw all that he had made, and it was very good. But the rea- 
son of those words is, that good is relative to those that are 
pleased with it, and not of absolute signification to all men. 
God therefore saith, that all that he had made was very good, 
because he was pleased with the creatures of his own making. 
But if all things were absolutely good, we should be all pleased 
with their being, which we are not, when the actions that de- 
pend upon their being are hurtful to us. And therefore, to 
speak properly, nothing is good or evil but in regard of the 
action that proceedeth from it, and also of the person to whom 
it doth good or hurt. Satan is evil to us, because he seeketh 
our destruction, but good to God, because he executeth his com- 
mandments. And so his metaphysical goodness is but an idle 
term, and not the member of a distinction. And as for nat- 
ural goodness and evilness, that also is but the goodness and 
evilness of actions ; as some herbs are good because they nourish, 
others evil because they poison us ; and one horse is good because 
he is gentle, strong, and carrieth a man easily; another bad, 
because he resisteth, goeth hard, or otherwise displeaseth us ; and 
that quality of gentleness, if there were no more laws amongst 
men than there is amongst beasts, would be as much a moral 
good in a horse or other beast as in a man. It is the law from 
whence proceeds the difference between the moral and the natural 
goodness: so that it is well enough said by him, that 'moral 
goodness is the conformity of an action with rignt reason' ; and 
better said than meant; for this right reason, which is the law, 
is no otherwise certainly right than by our making it so by our 
approbation of it and voluntary subjection to it. For the law- 
makers are men, and may err, and think that law, which they 



152 LEVIATHAN 

desire, and love, is accompanied with some delight more 
or less; and all hatred and aversion, with more or less 
displeasure and offence. 

Of pleasures or delights, some arise from the sense 
of an object present; and those may be called pleasure 
of sense; the word sensual, as it is used by those only 
that condemn them, having no place till there be laws. 
Of this kind are all onerations and exonerations of the 
body; as also all that is pleasant, in the sight, hearing, 
smell, taste, or touch. Others arise from the expecta- 



make, is for the good of the people sometimes when it is not. 
And yet the actions of subjects, if they be conformable to the 
law, are morally good, and yet cease not to be naturally good; 
and the praise of them passeth to the Author of nature, as well 
as of any other good whatsover. From whence it appears that 
moral praise is not, as he says, from the good use of liberty, 
but from obedience to the laws; nor moral dispraise from the 
bad use of liberty, but from disobedience to the laws. And for 
his consequence, 'if all things be necessary, then moral liberty is 
quite taken away, and with it all true praise and dispraise,' there 
is neither truth in it, nor argument offered for it; for there is 
nothing more necessary than the consequence of voluntary ac- 
tions to the will. And whereas I had said, that to say a thing is 
good, is to say it is as I or another would wish, or as the state 
would have it, or according to the law of the land, he answers, 
that 'I mistake infinitely.' And his reason is, because 'we often 
. wish what is profitable or delightful, without regarding as we 
ought what is honest.' There is no man living that seeth all 
the consequences of an action from the beginning to the end, 
whereby to weigh the whole sum of the good with the whole 
sum of the evil consequence. We choose no further than we can 
weigh. That is good to every man, which is so far good as he 
can see. All the real good, which we call honest and morally 
virtuous, is that which is not repugnant to the law, civil or 
natural ; for the law is all the right reason we have, and, (though 
he, as often as it disagreeth with his own reason, deny it), 
is the infallible rule of moral goodness. The reason whereof 
is this, that because neither mine nor the Bishop's reason is 
right reason fit to be a rule of our moral actions, we have there- 
fore set up over ourselves a sovereign governor, and agreed that 
his laws shall be unto us, whatsoever they be, in the place of 
right reason, to dictate to us what is really good. In the same 
manner as men in playing turn up trump, and as in playing their 
game their morality consisteth in not renouncing, so in our 



OF PASSIONS 153 

tion, that proceeds from foresight of the end, or conse- 
quence of things ; whether those things in the sense please 
or displease. And these are pleasures of the mind of him 
that draweth those consequences, and are generally called 
joy. In the like manner, displeasures are some in the 
sense, and called pain; others in the expectation of con- 
sequences, and are called grief. 4 

These simple passions called appetite, desire, love, 
aversion, hate, joy, and grief, have their names for divers 
considerations diversified. As first, when they one suc- 
ceed another, they are diversely called from the opinion 



civil conversation our morality is all contained in not disobeying 
of the laws." 

'Compare Elements of Philosophy, (M. I, 406). "But there 
is another kind of sense, of which I will say something in this 
place, namely, the sense of pleasure and pain, proceeding not 
from the reaction of the heart outwards, but from continual 
action from the outermost part of the organ towards the heart. 
For the original of life being in the heart, that motion in the 
sentient, which is propagated to the heart, must necessarily make 
some alteration or diversion of vital motion, namely, by quick- 
ening or slackening, helping or hindering the same. Now when 
it helpeth, it is pleasure ; and when it hindereth, it is pain, trou- 
ble, grief, &c. And as phantasms seem to be without, by reason 
of the endeavour outwards, so pleasure and pain, by reason of 
the endeavour of the organ inwards, seem to be within ; namely, 
there where the first cause of the pleasure or pain is ; as when 
the pain proceeds from a wound, we think the pain and the 
wound are both in the same place." Also Human Nature, (M. 
IV, 31). "Conceptions and apparitions are nothing really, but 
motion in some internal substance of the head; which motion 
not stopping there, but proceeding to the heart, of necessity 
must there either hzlp or hinder the motion which is called 
vital; when it helpeth, it is called delight, contentment, or 
pleasure, which is nothing really but motion about the heart, 
as conception is nothing but motion in the head : and the objects 
that cause it are called pleasant or delightful, or by some name 
equivalent ; the Latins have jucundum, a juvando, from helping ; 
and the same delight, with reference to the object, is called love: 
but when such motion weakeneth or hindereth the vital motion, 
then it is called pain; and in relation to that which causeth it, 
hatred, which the Latins express sometimes by odium, and some- 
times by taedium" 



154 LEVIATHAN 

men have of the likelihood of attaining what they desire. 
Secondly, from the object loved or hated. Thirdly, from 
the consideration of many of them together. Fourthly, 
from the alteration or succession itself. 

For appetite, with an opinion of attaining, is called 

HOPE. 

The same, without such opinion, despair. 
Aversion, with opinion of hurt from the object, 

FEAR. 

The same, with hope of avoiding that hurt by resis- 
tance, courage. 

Sudden courage, anger. 

Constant hope, confidence of ourselves. 

Constant despair, diffidence of ourselves. 

Anger for great hurt done to another, when we con- 
ceive the same to be done by injury, indignation. 

Desire of good to another, benevolence, good will, 
charity. If to man generally, good nature. 

Desire of riches, covetousness ; a name used always 
in signification of blame; because men contending for 
them, are displeased with one another attaining them; 
though the desire in itself, be to be blamed, or allowed, 
according to the means by which these riches are sought. 

Desire of office, or precedence, ambition : a name 
used also in the worse sense, for the reason before men- 
tioned. 

Desire of things that conduce but a little to our ends, 
and fear of things that are but of little hincfrance, pus- 
illanimity. 

Contempt of little helps and hindrances, magnanim- 
ity. 

Magnanimity, in danger of death or wounds, valour, 
fortitude- 

Magnanimity in the use of riches, liberality. 



OF PASSIONS 155 

Pusillanimity in the same, wretchedness, misera- 
bleness, or parsimony; as it is liked or disliked. 

Love of persons for society, kindness. 

Love of persons for pleasing the sense only, natural 
lust. 

Love of the same, acquired from rumination, that 
is, imagination of pleasure past, luxury. 

• Love of one singularly, with desire to be singularly 
beloved, the passion of love. The same, with fear 
that the love is not mutual, jealousy. 

Desire, by doing hurt to another, to make him con- 
demn some fact of his own, revengefulness. 

Desire to know why, and how, curiosity ; such as is in 
no living creature but man: so that man is distinguished, 
not only by his reason, but also by this singular passion 
from other animals; in whom the appetite of food, and 
other pleasures of sense, by predominance, take away 
the care of knowing causes ; which is a lust of the mind, 
that by a perseverance of delight in the continual and 
indefatigable generation of knowledge, exceedeth the 
short vehemence of any carnal pleasure. 

Fear of power invisible, feigned by the mind, or im- 
agined from tales publicly allowed, religion; not al- 
lowed, superstition. And when the power imagined, 
is truly such as we imagine, true religion. 

Fear, without the apprehension of why, or what, 
panic terror, called so from the fables, that make Pan 
the author of them; whereas, in truth, there is always 
in him that so feareth, first, some apprehension of the 
cause, though the rest run away by example, every one 
supposing his fellow to know why. And therefore this 
passion happens to none but in a throng, or multitude 
of people. 

Joy y from apprehension of novelty, admiration; 



156 LEVIATHAN 

proper to man, because it excites the appetite of knowing 
the cause- 

Joy, arising from imagination of a man's own power 
and ability, is that exultation of the mind which is 
called glorying: which if grounded upon the experience 
of his own former actions, is the same with confidence: 
but if grounded on the flattery of others; or only sup- 
posed by himself, for delight in the consequences of it, 
is called vain-glory : which name is properly given ; 
because a well grounded confidence begetteth attempt; 
whereas the supposing of power does not, and is there- 
fore rightly called vain. 

Grief, from opinion of want of power, is called de- 
jection of mind. 

The vain-glory which consisteth in the feigning or 
supposing of abilities in ourselves, which we know 
are not, is most incident to young men, and nourished 
by the histories, or fictions of gallant persons; and is 
corrected oftentimes by age, and employment. 

Sudden glory, is the passion which maketh those 
grimaces called laughter ; and is caused either by some 
sudden act of their own, that pleaseth them ; or by the 
apprehension of some deformed thing in another, by com- 
parison whereof they suddenly applaud themselves. And 
it is incident most to them, that are conscious of the 
fewest abilities in themselves; who are forced to keep 
themselves in their own favour, by observing the im- 
perfections of other men. And therefore much laughter 
at the defects of others, is a sign of pusillanimity. For 
of great minds, one of the proper works is, to help and 
free others from scorn; and compare themselves only 
with the most able. 

On the contrary, sudden dejection, is the passion that 
causeth weeping; and is caused by such accidents, as 



OF PASSIONS 157 

suddenly take away some vehement hope, or some prop 
of their power: and they are most subject to it, that rely 
principally on helps external, such as are women, and 
children. Therefore some weep for the loss of friends; 
others for their unkindness; others for the sudden stop 
made to their thoughts of revenge, by reconciliation. 
But in all cases, both laughter, and weeping, are sud- 
den motions; custom taking them both away. For. no 
man laughs at old jests; or weeps for an old calamity. 

Grief, for the discovery of some defect of ability, is 
shame, or the passion that discovereth itself in blush- 
ing; and consisteth in the apprehension of some thing 
dishonourable; and in young men, is a sign of the love 
of good reputation, and commendable; in old men it is 
a sign of the same ; but. because it comes too late, not 
commendable. 

The contempt of good reputation is called impu- 
dence. 

Grief, for the calamity of another, is pity ; and aris- 
eth from the imagination that the like calamity may befall 
himself; and therefore is called also compassion, and 
in the phrase of this present time a fellow,-feeling : 
and therefore for calamity arriving from great wicked- 
ness, the best men have the least pity; and for the same 
calamity those hate pity, that think themselves least 
obnoxious to the same. 

Contempt, or little sense of the calamity of others, is 
that which men call cruelty ; proceeding from security 
of their own fortune. For, that any man should take 
pleasure in other men's great harms ; without other end of 
his own, I do not conceive it possible. 

Grief, for the success of a competitor in wealth., 
honour, or other good, if it be joined with endeavour to 
enforce onr own abilities to equal or exceed him, is 



I5S LEVIATHAN 

called emulation : but joined with endeavour to sup- 
plant, or hinder a competitor, envy. 

When in the mind of man, appetites, and aversions, 
hopes, and fears, concerning one and the same thing, 
arise alternately; and divers good and evil consequences 
of the doing, or omitting the thing propounded, come 
successively into our thoughts; so that sometimes we 
have an appetite to it; sometimes an aversion from it; 
sometimes hope to be able to do it ; sometimes despair, 
or fear to attempt it; the whole sum of desires, aver- 
sions, hopes and fears continued till the thing be either 
done, or thought impossible, is that we call delibera- 
tion. 

Therefore of things past, there is no deliberation; be- 
cause manifestly impossible to be changed : nor of things 
known to be impossible, or thought so; because men 
know, or think such deliberation vain. But of things 
impossible, which we think possible, we may deliberate; 
not knowing it is in vain. And it is called deliberation; 
because it is a putting an end to the liberty we had of do- 
ing, or omitting, according to our own appetite, or aver- 
sion. 

This alternate succession of appetites, aversions, 
hopes and fears, is no less in other living creatures than 
in man : and therefore beasts also deliberate. 

Every deliberation is then said to end, when that 
whereof they deliberate, is either done, or thought im- 
possible ; because till then we retain the liberty of doing, 
or omitting; according to our appetite, or aversion. 

In deliberation, the last appetite, or aversion, im- 
mediately adhering to the action, or to the omission 
thereof, is that we call the will; the act, not the faculty, 
of willing. And beasts that have deliberation, must nec- 
essarily also have will. The definition of the will, given 



OF PASSIONS 159 

commonly by the Schools, that it is a rational appetite, 
is not good. For if it were, then could there be no vol- 
untary act against reason. For a voluntary act is that, 
which proceedeth from the will, and no other. But if 
instead of a rational appetite, we shall say an appetite 
resulting from a precedent deliberation, then the defini- 
tion is the same that I have given here. Will, therefore, 
is the last appetite in deliberating. And though we say 
in common discourse, a man had a will once to do a 
thing, that nevertheless he forbore to do; yet that is 
properh* but an inclination, which makes no action vol- 
untary; because the action depends not of it, but of the 
last inclination, or appetite. For if the intervenient ap- 
petites, make any action voluntary; then by the same 
reason all intervenient aversions, should make the same 
action involuntary; and so one and the same action, 
should be both voluntary and involuntary. 

By this it is manifest, that not only actions that have 
their beginning from covetousness, ambition, lust, or 
other appetites to the thing propounded; but also those 
that have their beginning from aversion, or fear of those 
consequences that follow the omission, are voluntary 
actions^ 



6 Compare Elements of Philosophy, (M. I, 408). "The con- 
siderations of appetites and aversions are divers. For seeing 
living creatures have sometimes appetite and sometimes aver- 
sion to the same thing, as they think it will either be for their 
good or their hurt ; while that vicissitude of appetites and aver- 
sions remains in them, they have that series of thoughts which 
is called deliberation; which lasteth as long as they have it in 
their power to obtain that which pleaseth, or to avoid that which 
displeaseth them. Appetite, therefore, and aversion are simply 
so called as long as they follow not deliberation. But if deliber- 
ation have gone before, then the last act of it, if it be appetite, 
is called will; if aversion, unzvillingness. So that the same thing 
is called both will and appetite ; but the consideration of them, 
namely, before and after deliberation, is divers. Nor is _ that 
which is done within a man whilst he willeth any thing, differ- 



160 LEVIATHAN 

The forms of speech by which the passions are ex< 
pressed, are partly the same, and partly different from 
those, by which we express our thoughts. And first, 
generally all passions may be expressed indicatively; 
as / love, I fear, I joy, I deliberate, I will, I command: 
but some of them have particular expressions by them- 
selves, which nevertheless are not affirmations, unless it be 
when they serve to make other inferences, besides that of 
the passion they proceed from. Deliberation is expressed 
subjnnctively ; which is a speech proper to signify suppo- 
sitions, with their consequences; as, if this be do?ie, then 



ent from that which is done in other living creatures, whilst, 
deliberation having preceded, they have appetite. Neither is the 
freedom of willing or not willing, greater in man, than in other 
living creatures. For where there is appetite, the entire cause of 
appetite hath preceded; and, consequently, the act of appetite 
could not choose but follow, that is, hath of necessity followed. 
And therefore such a liberty as is free from necessity, is not to be 
found in the will either of men or beasts. But if by liberty 
we understand the faculty or power, not of willing, but of do- 
ing what they will, then certainly that liberty is to be allowed 
to both, and both may equallv have it, whensoever it is to be 
had.*' Also below p. 255, and Leviathan, (M. Ill, 360). "Sense, 
memory, understanding, reason, and opinion are not in our power 
to change ; but always, and necessarily such, as the things we see, 
hear, and consider suggest unto us ; and therefore are not effects 
of our will, but our will of them." Also Human Nature, (M. 
IV, 67). "It hath been declared already, how external objects 
cause conceptions, and conceptions, appetite and fear, which are 
the first unperceived beginnings of our actions: for either the 
actions immediately follow the first appetite, as when we do 
anything upon a sudden ; or else to our first appetite there suc- 
ceedeth some conception of evil to happen to us by such actions, 
which is fear, and which holdeth us from proceeding. And to 
that fear may succeed a new appetite, and to that appetite an- 
other fear alternately, till the action be either done, or some 
accident come between, to make it impossible; and so this 
alternate appetite and fear ceaseth, This alternate succession of 
appetite and fear during all the time the action is in our power to 
do or not o do, is that we call deliberation; which name hath 
been given >t for that part of the definition wherein it is said 
that it iasteth so long as the action, whereof we deliberate, is 
in our power : for, so long we have liberty to do or not to 
do ; and deliberation signifieth a taking away of our own liberty. 



OF PASSIONS 161 

this will follow; and differs not from the language of 
reasoning, save that reasoning is in general words; but 
deliberation for the most part is of particulars. The 
language of desire, and aversion, is imperative; as do 
this, forbear that; which when ithe party is obliged to do, 
or forbear, is command; otherwise prayer; or else 
counsel. The language of vain-glory, of indignation, 
pity and revengefulness, optative: but of the desire to 
know, there is a peculiar expression, called interroga- 
tive; as,what is it, when shall it, how is it done, and why 
sot other language of the passions I find none : for curs- 



Deliberation therefore requireth in the action deliberated two con- 
ditions; one, that it be future; the other, that there be hope of 
doing it, or possibility of not doing it; for, appetite and fear 
are expectations of the future; and there is no expectation of 
good, without hope; or of evil, without possibility: of neces- 
saries therefore there is no deliberation. In deliberation, the 
last appetite, as also the last fear, is called will, viz. the last ap- 
petite, will to do, or will to omit. It is all one therefore to say 
will and last will: for, though a man express his present inclin- 
ation and appetite concerning the disposing of his goods, by 
words or writings ; yet shall it not be counted his will, because 
he hath still liberty to dispose of them otherways : but when 
death taketh away that liberty, then it is his will. Voluntary 
actions and omissions are such as have beginning in the will; 
all other are involuntary, or mixed voluntary; involuntary, such 
as he doth by necessity of nature, as when he is pushed, or fal- 
leth, and thereby doth good or hurt to another : mixed, such as 
participate of both ; as when a man is carried to prison, going is 
voluntary, to the prison, is involuntary : the example of him 
that throweth his goods out of a ship into the sea, to save his 
person, is of an action altogether voluntary: for, there is noth- 
ing therein involuntary, but the hardness of the choice, which 
is not his action, but the action of the winds : what he himself 
doth, is no more against his will, than to flee from danger is 
against the will of him that seeth no other means to preserve 
himself. Voluntary also are the actions that proceed from 
sudden anger, or other sudden appetite in such men as can dis- 
cern good or evil : for, in them the time precedent is to be 
judged deliberation: for then also he deliberateth in what 
cases it is good to strike, deride, or do any other action proceed- 
ing from anger or other such sudden passion. Appetite, fear, 
hope, and the rest of the passions are not called voluntary; 
for they proceed not from, but are the will; and the will is not 



162 LEVIATHAN 

ing, swearing, reviling, and the like, do not signify as 
speech ; but as the actions of a tongue accustomed. 

These forms of speech, I say, are expressions, or 
voluntary significations of our passions: but certain 
signs they be not; because they may be used arbitrarily, 
whether they that use them, have such passions or not. 
The best signs of passions present, are either in the 
countenance, motions of .the body, actions, and ends, 
or aims, which we otherwise know the man to have. 

And because in deliberation, the appetites, and aver- 
sions, are raised by foresight of the good and evil con- 



voluntary: for, a man can no more say he will will, than he 
will will will, and so make an infinile repetition of the word 
[will] ; which is absurd, and insignificant. Forasmuch as will to 
do is appetite, and will to omit, fear; the cause of appetite and 
fear is the cause also of our will: but the propounding of the 
benefits and of harms, that is to say, of reward and punishment, 
is the cause of our appetite, and of our fears, and therefore 
also of our wills, so far forth as we believe that such rewards 
and benefits as are propounded, shall arrive unto us ; and conse- 
quently, our wills follow our opinions, as our actions follow 
our wills; in which sense they say truly, and properly, that 
say the world is governed by opinion. When the wills of 
many concur to one and the same action and effect, this con- 
course of their wills is called consent; by which we must not 
understand one will of many men, for every man hath his sever- 
al will, but many wills to the producing of one effect : but when 
the wills of two divers men produce such actions as are recip- 
rocally resistant one to the other, this is called contention; and, 
being upon the persons one of another, battle: whereas actions 
proceeding from consent, are mutual aid. When many wills are 
involved or included in the will of one or more consenting, 
(which how it may be, shall be hereafter declared) then is that 
involving of many wills in one or more, called union. In delib- 
erations interrupted, as they may be by diversion of other busi- 
ness, or by sleep, the last appetite of such part of the deliber- 
ation is called intention, or purpose." Also Human Nature, 
(M. IV., 240). "He is free to do a thing, that may do it if he 
have the will to do it, and may forbear, if he have the will 
to^ forbear. And yet if there be a necessity that he shall have the 
will to do it, the action is necessarily to follow : and if there 
be a necessity that he shall have the will to forbear, the forbear- 
ing also will be necessary. The question therefore is not, 



OF PASSIONS 163 

sequences, and sequels of the action whereof we delib- 
erate; the good or evil effect thereof dependeth on the 
foresight of a long chain of consequences, of which very 
seldom any man is able to see the end. But for so far 
as a man seeth, if the good in those consequences be 
greater than the evil, the whole chain is that which 
writers call apparent, or seeming good. And contrarily, 
when the evil exceedeth the good, the whole is appar- 
ent, or seeming evil: so that he who hath by experience, 
or reason, the greatest and surest prospect of conse- 



whether a man be a free agent, that is to say, whether he can 
write or forbear, speak or be silent, according to his will; but, 
whether the will to write, and the will to forbear, come upon him 
according to his will, or according to anything else in his own 
power. I acknowledge this liberty, that I can do it if I will; but 
to say, I can will if I will, I take to be an absurd speech." Com- 
pare also Leviathan, (M. Ill, 196), "Liberty, or freedom, sig- 
nifieth, properly, the absence of opposition ; by opposition, I 
mean external impediments of motion; and may be applied 
no less to irrational, and inanimate creatures, than to rational. 
For whatsoever is so tied, or environed, as it cannot move but 
within a certain space, which space is determined by the op- 
position of some external body, we say it hath not liberty to go 
further. And so of all living creatures, whilst they are impris- 
oned, or restrained, with walls, or chains; and of the water 
whilst it is kept in by banks, or vessels, that otherwise would 
spread itself into a larger space, we use to say, they are not at 
liberty, to move in such manner, as without those external im- 
pediments they would. But when the impediment of motion, is 
in the constitution of the thing itself, we use not to say ; it wants 
the liberty; but the power to move; as when a stone lieth still, 
or a man is fastened to his bed by sickness. And according to 
this proper, and generally received meaning of the word, a 
freeman, is he, that in those things, which by his strength 
and wit he is able to do, is not hindered to do what he has a 
will to. But when the words free, and liberty, are applied to 
anything but bodies, they are abused ; for that which is not sub- 
ject to motion, is not subject to impediment: and therefore, 
when it is said, for example, the way is free, no liberty of the 
way is signified, but of those that walk in it without stop. And 
when we say a gift is free, there is not meant any liberty of the 
gift, but of the giver, that was not bound by any law or cove- 
nant to give it. So when we speak freely, it is not the liberty 
of voice, or pronounciation, but of the man, whom no law 



164 LEVIATHAN 

quences,. deliberates best himself; and is able when he 
will, to give the best counsel unto others. 

Continual success in obtaining those things which 
a man from time to time desireth, that is to say, contin- 
ual prospering, is that men call felicity; I mean the 
felicity of this life. For there is no such thing as per- 
petual tranquility of mind, while we live here; because 
life itself is but motion, and can never be without desire, 
nor without fear, no more than without sense. What 
kind of felicity God hath ordained to them that devout- 
ly honour Him, a man shall no sooner know, than en- 
joy; being joys, that now are as incomprehensible, as 
the word of school-men beatifical vision is unintelligible. 

The form of speech whereby men signify their opin- 
ion of the goodness of anything, is praise. That where- 



hath obliged to speak otherwise than he did. Lastly, from the 
use of the word free-will, no liberty can be inferred of the will, 
desire, or inclination, but the liberty of the man ; which con- 
sisted in this, that he finds no stop, in doing what he has the 
will, desire, or inclination to do. ***** Liberty, and 
necessity are consistent : as in the water, that hath not only lib- 
erty, but a necessity of descending by the channel ; so likewise 
in the actions which men voluntarily do : which, because they pro- 
ceed from their will, proceed from liberty; and yet, because 
every act of man's will, and every desire, and inclination pro- 
ceeded! from some cause, and that from another cause, in a 
continual chain, whose first link is in the hand of God the first 
of all causes, proceed from necessity. So that to him that could 
see the connexion of those causes, the necessity of all men's 
voluntary actions, would appear manifest. And therefore God, 
that seeth, and disposeth all things, seeth also that the liberty 
of man in doing what he will, is accompanied with the necessity 
of doing that which God will, and no more, nor less. For though 
men may do many things, which God does not command, nor is 
therefore author of them ; yet they can have no passion, nor ap- 
petite to anything, of which appetite God's will is not the cause. 
And did not his will assure the necessity of man's will, and con- 
sequently of all that on man's will dependeth, the liberty pi men 
would be a contradiction, and impediment to the omnipotence 
and liberty of God. And this shall suffice, as to the matter in 
hand, of that natural liberty, which only is properly called lib- 
erty." 



OF PASSIONS 165 

by they signify the power and greatness of anything, 
is magnifying. And that whereby they signify the 
opinion they have of a man's felicity, is by the Greeks 
called /j.axapt<r/ji6^ for which we have no name in our 
tongue. And thus much is sufficient for the present 
purpose, to have been said of the passions. 

SUPPLEMENT FROM 

LIBERTY AND NECESSITY. 

MY OPINION ABOUT LIBERTY AND NECESSITY. 6 

First I conceive, that when it cometh into a man's 
mind to do or not to do some certain action, if he have 
no time to deliberate, the doing it or abstaining neces- 
sarily follow the present thought he hath of the good or 
evil consequence thereof to himself. As for example, 
in sudden anger, the action shall follow the thought of 
revenge; in sudden fear, the thought of escape. Also 
when a man hath time to deliberate, but deliberates not, 
because never anything appeared that could make him 
doubt of the consequence, the action follows his opinion 
of the goodness or harm of it. These actions I call vol- 
untary, my Lord, if I understand him aright that calls 
them spontaneous. I call them voluntary, because 
those actions that follow immediately the last appetite, 
are voluntary, and here where is one only appetite, that 
one is the last. Besides, I see it is reasonable to punish 
a rash action, which could not be justly done by man 
to man, unless the same were voluntary. For no action 
of a man can be said to be without deliberation, though 
never so sudden, because it is supposed he had time to 
deliberate all the precedent time of his life, whether he 



6 M. IV, 272-278. 



166 LEVIATHAN 

should do that kind of action or not. And hence it is, 
that he that killeth in a sudden passion of anger, shall 
nevertheless be justly put to death, because all the time, 
wherein he was able to consider whether to kill were 
good or evil, shall be held for one continual deliberation, 
and consequently the killing shall be judged to proceed 
from election. 

Secondly, I conceive when a man deliberates whether 
he shall do a thing or not do it, that he does nothing else 
but consider whether it be better for himself to do it or 
not to do it. And to consider an action, is to imagine 
the consequences of it, both good and evil. From whence 
is to be inferred, that deliberation is nothing else but al- 
ternate imagination of the good and evil sequels of an 
action, or, which is the same thing, alternate hope and 
fear, or alternate appetite to do or quit the action of 
which he dcliberateth. 

Thirdly, I conceive that in all deliberations, that is 
to say, in all alternate succession of contrary appetites, 
the last is that which we call the will, and is immediately 
next before the doing of the action, or next before the 
doing of it become impossible. All other appetites to do, 
and to quit, that come upon a man during his deliberations, 
are called intentions and inclinations, but not wills, there 
being but one will, which also in this case may be called 
the last will, though the intentions change often. 

Fourthly, I conceive that those actions, which a man is 
said to do upon deliberation, are said to be voluntary, and 
done upon choice and electio?i, so that voluntary action, 
and action proceeding from election is the same thing; 
and that of a voluntary agent, it is all one to say, he is 
free, and to say, he hath not made an end of deliberating. 

Fifthly, I conceive liberty to be rightly defined in this 
manner : Liberty is the absence of all the impediments 



OF PASSIONS 167 

to action that are not contained in the nature and intrinsic 
cal quality of the agent. As for example, the water is 
said to descend freely, or to have liberty to descend bv 
the channel of the river, because there is no impediment 
that way, but not across, because the banks are impedi- 
ments. And though the water cannot ascend, yet men 
never say it wants the liberty to ascend, but the faculty 
or power, because the impediment is in the nature of the 
water, and intrinsical. So also we say, he that is tied, 
wants the liberty to go, because the impediment is not 
in nim, but in his bands; whereas we say not so of him 
that is sick or lame, because the impediment is in himself. 

Sixthly, I conceive that nothing taketh beginning 
from itself, but from the action of some other immed- 
iate agent without itself. And that therefore, when first 
a man hath an appetite or will to something, to which 
immediately before he had no appetite nor will, the cause 
of his will, is not the will itself, but something else not in 
his own disposing. So that whereas it is out of contro- 
versy, that of voluntary actions the will is the necessary 
cause, and by this which is said, the will is also caused 
by other things whereof it disposeth not, it followeth, 
that voluntary actions have all of them necessary causes, 
and therefore are necessitated. 

Seventhly, I hold that to be a sufficient cause, to 
which nothing is wanting that is needful to the produc- 
ing of the effect. The same also is a necessary cause 
For if it be possible that a sufficient cause shall not 
bring forth the effect, then there wantetfo somewhat 
which was needful to the producing of it, and so the 
cause was not sufficient; but if it be impossible that a 
sufficient cause should not produce the effect, then is a 
sufficient cause a necessary cause, for that is said to 
produce an effect necessarily that cannot but produce it. 



168 LEVIATHAN 

Hence it is manifest, that whatsoever is produced, is pro- 
duced necessarily; for whatsoever is produced hath had 
a sufficient cause to produce it, or else it had not been ; 
and therefore also voluntary actions are necessitated. 

Lastly, that ordinary definition of a free agent, name- 
ly, that a free agent is that, which, when all things are 
present which are needful to produce the effect, can never- 
theless not produce it, implies a contradiction, and is non- 
sense; being as much as to say, the cause may be suf- 
ficient, that is to say, necessary, and yet the effect shall 
not follow. 

MY REASONS. 

For the first five points, wherein it is explicated i, 
what spontaneity is; n, what deliberation is; in, what 
will, propension, and appettite are ; iv, what a free agent 
is : v, what liberty is ; there can no other proof be offered 
but every man's own experience, by reflection on himself, 
and remembering what he useth in his mind, that is, what 
he himself meaneth when he saith an action is spontane- 
ous, a man deliberates; such is his will, that agent or 
that action is free. Now he that reflecteth so on himself, 
cannot but be satisfied, that deliberation is the considera- 
tion of the good and evil sequels of an action to come; 
that by spontaneity is meant inconsiderate action, or else 
nothing is meant by it ; that will is the last act of our de- 
liberation; that a free agent is he that can do if he will, 
and forbear if he will; and that liberty is the absence of 
external impediments. But to those that out of custom 
speak not what they conceive, but what they hear, and 
are not able, or will not take the pains to consider what 
they think when they hear such words, no argument can 
be sufficient, because experience and matter of fact are 
not verified by other men's arguments, but by every 



OF PASSIONS i6g 

man's own sense and memory. For example, how can it 
be proved that to love a thing and to think it good is 
all one, to a man that doth not mark his own meaning by 
those words? Or how can it be proved that eternity is 
not nunc stans to a man that says those words by custom, 
and never considers how he can conceive the thing in his 
mind? 

Also the sixth point, that a man cannot imagine any- 
thing to begin without a cause, can no other way be made 
known, but by trying how he can imagine it ; but if he try, 
he shall find as much reason, if there be no cause of 
the thing, to conceive it should begin at one time as an- 
other, that he hath equal reason to think it should begin 
at all times, which is impossible, and therefore he must 
think there was some special cause why it began then, 
rather than sooner or later; or else that it began never, 
but was eternal. 

For the seventh point, which is, that all events have 
necessary causes, it is there proved, in that they have 
sufficient causes. Further let us in this place also sup- 
pose any event never so casual, as the throwing, for 
example, ames ace upon a pair of dice, and see, if it must 
not have been necessary before it was thrown. For see- 
ing it was thrown, it had a beginning, and consequently 
a sufficient cause to produce it, consisting partly in the 
dice, partly in outward things, as the posture of the parts 
of the hand, the measure of force applied by the caster, 
the posture of the parts of the table, and the like. In sum, 
there was nothing wanting which was necessarily re- 
quisite to the producing of that particular cast, and con- 
sequently the cast was necessarily thrown ; for if it had 
not been thrown, there had wanted somewhat requisite 
to the throwing of it, and so the cause had not been suf- 
ficient. In the like manner it may be proved that every 



\7o LEVIATHAN 

other accident, how contingent soever it seem, or how 
voluntary soever it be, is produced necessarily, which 
is that that my Lord Bishop disputes against. The 
same may be proved also in this manner. Let the case 
be put, for example, of the weather. // is necessary that 
to-morrow it shall rain or not rain. If therefore it be 
not necessary it shall rain, it is necessary it shall not rain, 
otherwise there is no necessity that the proposition, it 
shall rain or not rain, should be true. I know there be 
some that say, it may necessarily be true that one of the 
two shall come to pass, but not, singly that it shall rain, 
or that it shall not rain, which is as much to say, one of 
them is necessary, yet neither of them is necessary; and 
therefore to seem to avoid that absurdity, they make a 
distinction, that neither of them is true determinate, but 
indeterminate; which distinction either signifies no more 
but this, one of them is true, but we know not which, 
and so the necessity remains, though we know it not; 
or if the meaning of the distinction be not that, it hath 
no meaning, and they might as well have said, one of 
them is true Titirice, but neither of them, Tu patulice. 

The last thing, in which also consisteth the whole 
controversy, namely that there is no such thing as an 
agent, which when all things requisite to action are pres- 
ent, can nevertheless forbear to produce it; or, which is 
all one, that there is no such thing as freedom from ne- 
cessity, is easily inferred from that which hath been before 
alleged. For if it be an agent, it can work; and if it 
work, there is nothing wanting of what is requisite to 
produce the action, and consequently the cause of the 
action is sufficient; and if sufficient, then also necessary, 
as hath been proved before. 

And thus you see how the inconveniences, which his 
Lordship objecteth must follow upon the holding of 



OF PASSIONS 171 

necessity, are avoided, and the necessity itself demon- 
stratively proved. To which I could add, if I thought 
it good logic, the inconvenience of denying necessity, as 
that it destroyeth both the decrees and the prescience of 
God Almighty; for whatsoever God hath purposed to 
bring to pass by man, as an instrument, or forseeth shall 
come to pass ; a man, if he have liberty, such as his Lord- 
ship affirmeth, from necessitation, might frustrate, and 
make not to come to pass, and God should either not fore- 
know it, and not decree it, or he should foreknow such 
things shall be. as shall never be, and decree that which 
shall never come to pass. 



CHAPTER VII, 

OF THE ENDS, OR RESOLUTIONS OF DISCOURSE. 

Of all discourse, governed by desire of knowledge, 
there is at last an end, either by attaining, or by giving 
over. And in the chain of discourse, wheresoever it 
be interrupted, there is an end for that time. 

If the discourse be merely mental, it consisteth of 
thoughts that the thing will be, and will not be ; or that it 
has been, and has not been, alternately. So that where- 
soever you break off the chain of the man's discourse 
you leave him in a presumption of it will be, or, it will 
not be; or, it has been, or, has not been. All which is 
opinion. 1 And that which is alternate appetite, in delib- 
erating concerning good and evil ; the same is alter- 
nate opinion, in the enquiry of the truth of past, and fu- 
ture. And as the last appetite in deliberation, is called 
the will; so the last opinion in search of the truth of 
past, and future, is called the judgment, 2 or resolute 
and final sentence of him that discourseth. And as the 
whole chain of appetites alternate, in the question of 



1 Compare above p. 160, n. 5. 

2 Hobbes does not usually use the term in this sense. For 
his usual meaning compare above p. 113, n. 1., below p. 179. 
and Human Nature, (M. IV, 55). "A man delighteth himself 
either with finding expected similitude of things, otherwise much 
unlike, in which men place the excellency of faney, * * * 
* * * * or else in discerning suddenly dissimilitude in 
things that otherwise appear the same. And this virtue of the 
mind is that by which men attain to exact and perfect knowl- 
edge; and the pleasure thereof consisteth in continual instruc- 
tion, and in distinction of places, persons, and seasons, and is 
commonly termed by the name of judgment; for, to judge is 
nothing else, but to distinguish or discern : and both fancy and 
judgment are commonly comprehended under the name of wit, 
which seemeth to be a tenuity and agility of spirits, contrary to 
that restiness of the spirits supposed in those that are dull." 



OF THE ENDS OF DISCOURSE 173 

good, or bad, is called deliberation; so the whole chain 
of opinions alternate, in the question of true, or false, 
is called doubt. 

No discourse whatsoever, can end in absolute knowl- 
edge of fact, past, or to come. For, as for the knowl- 
edge of fact, it is originally, sense ; and ever after, mem- 
ory. And for the knowledge of consequence, which I 
have said before is called science, it is not absolute, but 
conditional. No man can know by discourse, that this, 
or that, is, has been, or will be ; which is to know abso- 
lutely : but only, that if this be, that is ; if this has been, 
that has been ; if this shall be, that shall be : which is 
to know conditionally ; and that not the consequence of 
one thing to another; but of one name of a thing, to 
another name of the same thing. 

And therefore, when the discourse is put into speech, 
and begins with the definitions of words, and proceeds 
by connexion of the same into general affirmations, and 
of these again into syllogisms; the end or last sum is 
called the conclusion ; and the thought of the mind by 
it signified, is that conditional knowledge, or knowl- 
edge of the consequence of words, which is commonly 
called science. 3 But if the first ground of such dis^ 
course, be not definitions ; or if the definitions be not 
rightly joined together into syllogisms, then the end or 
conclusion, is again opinion, namely of the truth of some- 
what said, though sometimes in absurd and senseless 
words, without possibility of being understood. When 
two, or more men, know of one and the same fact, they 
are said to be conscious of it one to another; which is 
as much as to know it together. And because such are 
fittest witnesses of the facts of one another, or of a 



* For other references to knowledge and science see above 
Chapter V, below Chapter IX, and index. 



174 LEVIATHAN 

third; it was, and ever will be reputed a very evil act, 
for any man to speak against his conscience: or to cor- 
rupt or force another so to do: insomuch that the plea 
of conscience, has been always hearkened unto very dil- 
igently in all times. Afterwards, men made use of the 
same word metaphorically, for the knowledge of their 
own secret facts, and secret thoughts; and therefore 
it is rhetorically said, that the conscience is a thousand 
witnesses. And last of all, men, vehemently in love 
with their own new opinions, though never so absurd, 
and obstinately bent to maintain them, gave those their 
opinions also that reverenced name of conscience, as if 
they would have it seem unlawful, to change or speak 
against them ; and so pretend to know they are true, 
when they know at most, but that they think so. 4 



4 Compare Human Nature, (M. IV, 29). "It is either sci- 
ence or opinion which we commonly mean by the word con- 
science: for men say that such and such a thing is true in or up- 
on their conscience ; which they never do, when they think it 
doubtful; and therefore they know, or think they know it to be 
true. But men, when they say things upon their conscience, are 
not therefore presumed certainly to know the truth of what 
they say; it remaineth then, that that word is used by them that 
have an opinion, not only of the truth of the thing, but also of 
their knowledge of it, to which the truth of the proposition is 
consequent. Conscience I therefore define to be opinion of evi- 
dence." (M. IV, 163). ''A subject may no more govern his 
own actions according to his own discretion and judgment, or, 
which is all one, conscience, as the present occasions from time 
to time shall dictate to him ; but must be tied to do according 
to that will only, which once for all he had long ago laid up, and 
involved in the wills of the major part of an assembly, or in the 
will of some one man. But this is really no inconvenience. For, 
as it hath been showed before, it is the only means, by which we 
have any possibility of preserving ourselves. For if every man 
were allowed this liberty of following his conscience, in such dif- 
ference of consciences, they would not live together in peace an 
hour. But it appeareth a great inconvenience to every man in 
particular, to be debarred of this liberty, because every one 
apart considereth it as in himself, and not as in the rest ; by 
which means, liberty appeareth in the likeness of rule and gov- 
ernment over others. For where one man is at liberty, and the 



OF THE ENDS OF DISCOURSE 175 

When a man's discourse beginneth not at definitions, 
it beginneth either at some other contemplation of his 
own, and then it is still called opinion; or it beginneth 
at some saying of another, of whose ability to know 
the truth, and of whose honesty in not deceiving, he 
doubteth not; and then the discourse is not so much 
concerning the thing, as the person; and the resolution 
is called belief, and faith : faith, in the man ; belief, 
both of the man, and of the truth of what he says. So 
that in belief are two opinions : one of the saying of the 
man ; the other of his virtue. To have faith in, or trust 
to, or believe a man, signify the same thing; namely, 
an opinion of the veracity of the man: but to believe 
what is said, signifieth only an opinion of the truth of 
the saying. But we are to observe that this phrase, 
/ believe in; as also the Latin, credo in; and the Greek, 
ntffreum el?, are never used but in the writings of di- 



rest bound, there that one hath government; which honour, he 
that understandeth not so much, demanding by the name simply 
of liberty, thinketh it a great grievance and injury to be denied 
it." (M. IV. 172). "To take away this scruple of conscience, 
concerning obedience to human laws, amongst those that inter- 
pret to themselves the word of God in the Holy Scriptures, I 
propound to their consideration, first, that no human law is in- 
tended to oblige the conscience of a man, unless it break out into 
action, either of the tongue, or other part of the body. The law 
made thereupon would be of none effect, because no man is able 
to discern, but by word or other action whether such law be 
kept or broken." CM. IV, 186). _ "And though it be true, 
whatsoever a man does against his conscience, is sin ; yet the 
obedience in these cases, is neither sin, nor against the con- 
science. For the conscience being nothing else but a man's 
settled judgment and opinion, when he hath once transferred his 
right of judging to another, that which shall be commanded, 
is no less his judgment, than the judgment of that other. So that 
in obedience to laws, a man doth still according to his own con- 
science, but not his private conscience. And whatsoever is done 
contrary to private conscience, is then a sin, when the laws have 
left him to his own liberty, and never else. And then whatsoever 
a man doth, not only believing it is ill done, but doubting wheth- 
er it be ill or not, is done ill, in case he may lawfully omit the 



176 LEVIATHAN 

vines. Instead of them, in other writings are put, / be- 
lieve him; I trust him; I have faith in him; I rely on 
him: and in Latin, credo illi: fido illi; and in Greek, 
iztffTsoto aur<ji: and that this singularity of the ecclesiastic 
use of the word hath raised many disputes about the 
right object of the Christian faith. 

But by believing in, as it is in the creed, is meant, 
not trust in the person; but confession and acknowl- 
edgement of the doctrine. For not only Christians, 
but all manner of men do so believe in God, as to hold 
all for truth they hear him say, whether they under- 
stand it, or not ; which is all the faith and trust can pos- 
sibly be had in any person whatsoever: but they do not 
all believe the doctrine of the creed. 

From whence we may infer, that when we believe 
any saying whatsoever it be, to be true, from argu- 
ments taken, not from the thing itself, or from the prin- 
ciples of natural reason, but from the authority, and 
good opinion we have, of him that hath said it ; then is 
the speaker, or person we believe in, or trust in, and 
whose word we take, the object of our faith; and the 
honour done in believing, is done to him only. And 
consequently, when we believe that the Scriptures are 



doing." Also Leviathan (M. Ill, 311). "Another doctrine repug- 
nant to civil society, is, that whatsoever a man does against his 
conscience, is sin; and it dependeth on the presumption of making 
himself judge of good and evil. For a man's conscience, and his 
judgment is the same thing, and as the judgment, so also the 
conscience may be erroneous. Therefore, though he that is 
subject to no civil law, sinneth in all he does against his con- 
science, because he has no other rule to follow but his own reason ; 
yet it is not so with him that lives in a commonwealth; because 
the law is the public conscience, by which he hath already under- 
taken to be guided. Otherwise in such diversity, as there is of 
private consciences, which are but private opinions, the common- 
wealth must needs be distracted, and no man dare to obey the 
sovereign power, further than it shall seem good in his own 
eyes." 



OF THE ENDS OF DISCOURSE 177 

the word of God, having no immediate revelation from 
God himself, our belief, faith, and trust is in the church; 
whose word we take, and acquiesce therein. And they that 
believe that which a prophet relates unto them in the 
name of God, take the word of the prophet, do honour 
to him, and in him trust, and believe, touching the truth 
of what he relateth, whether it be a true, or a false 
prophet. And so it is also with all other history. For if 
I should not believe all that is written by historians, of 
the glorious acts of Alexander, or Caesar; I do not think 
the ghost of Alexander, or Caesar, had any just 
cause to be offended ; or anybody else, but the historian. 
If Livy say the gods made once a cow speak, and we 
believe it not ; we distrust not God therein, but Livy. So 
that it is evident, that whatsoever we believe, upon no 
other reason, than what is drawn from authority of men 
only, and their writings ; whether they be sent from God 
or not, is faith in men only. 5 



'Compare Philosophical Rudiments, (M. II. 304). "But when 
our reasons, for which we assent to some proposition, derive not 
from the proposition itself, but from the person propounding, 
whom we esteem so learned that he is not deceived, and we see no 
reason why he should deceive us ; our assent, because it grows not 
from any confidence of our own, but from another man's knowl- 
edge, is called faith. And by the confidence of whom we do be- 
lieve, we are said to trust them, or to trust in them. By what 
hath been said, the difference appears, first, between faith and 
profession; for that is always joined with inward assent; this 
not always. That is an inward persuasion of the mind, this an 
outward obedience. Next, between faith and opinion: for this de- 
pends on our own reason, that on the good esteem we have of an- 
other. Lastly, between faith and knowledge; for this deliberately 
takes a proposition broken and chewed; that swallows it down 
whole and entire. The explication of words, whereby the matter 
enquired after is propounded, is conducible to knowledge ; nay, 
the only way to knoiu, is by definition. But this is prejudicial to 
faith; for those things which exceed human capacity, and are pro- 
pounded to be believed, are never more evident by explication, 
but, on the contrary, more obscure and harder to be credited. 
And the same thing befalls a man, who endeavours to demon- 



CHAPTER VIII. 

01? THE VIRTUES COMMONLY CALLED INTELLECTUAL J AND 
THEIR CONTRARY DEFECTS. 

Virtue generally, in all sorts of subjects, is some- 
what that is valued for eminence ; and consisteth in com- 
parison. For if all things were equal in all men, noth- 
ing would be prized. And by virtues intellectual, are 
always understood such abilities of the mind, as men 
praise, value, and desire should be in themselves; and 
go commonly under the name of a good wit; though the 
same word wit, be used also, to distinguish one certain 
ability from the rest. 1 

These virtues are of two sorts ; natural, and ac- 
quired. By natural, I mean not, that which a man 
hath from his birth: for that is nothing else but sense; 
wherein men differ so little one from another, and from 
brute beasts, as it is not to be reckoned amongst vir- 
tues. But I mean, that wit, which is gotten by use 
only, and experience; without method, culture, or in- 



strate the mysteries of faith by natural reason, which happens to 
a sick man, who will needs chew before he will swallow his whole- 
some but bitter pills ; whence it comes to pass, that he presently 
brings them up again ; which perhaps would otherwise, if he had 
taken them well down, have proved his remedy." Also Human 
Nature, (M. IV, 30). u Belief, which is the admitting of prop- 
ositions upon trust, in many cases is no less free from doubt, than 
perfect and manifest knozvledge : for as there is nothing whereof 
there is not some cause; so, when there is doubt, there must be 
some cause thereof conceived. Now there be many things which 
we receive from report of others, of which it is impossible to im- 
agine any cause of doubt: for what can be opposed against the 
consent of all men, in things they can know, and have no cause to 
report otherwise than they are, such as is a great part of our 
histories, unless a man would say that all the world had consbired 
to deceive him.'\ 

x For the distinction of moral virtues see above p. 147, n. 3. 



INTELLECTUAL VIRTUES 179 

struction. This natural wit, consisteth principally 
in two things; celerity of imagining, that is, swift suc- 
cession of one thought to another; and steady direction 
to some approved end. On the contrary a slow imag- 
ination, maketh that defect, or fault of the mind, which 
is commonly called dullness, stupidity, and sometimes 
by other names that signify slowness of motion, or 
difficulty to be moved. 

And this difference of quickness, is caused by the 
difference of men's passions ; that love and dislike, some 
one thing, some another: and therefore some men's 
thoughts run one way, some another; and are held to, 
and observe differently the things that pass through 
their imagination. And whereas in this succession of 
men's thoughts, there is nothing to observe in the things 
they think on, but either in what they be like one an- 
other, or in what they be unlike, or what they serve for, 
or how they serve to such a purpose; those that ob- 
serve their similitudes, in case they be such as are but 
rarely observed by others, are said to have a good wit; 
by which, in this occasion, is meant a good fancy. But 
they that observe their differences, and dissimilitudes; 
which is called distinguishing, and discerning, and 
judging between thing and thing; in case, such dis- 
cerning be not easy, are said to have a good judgment; 
and particularly in matter of conversation and business; 
wherein, times, places, and persons are to be discerned, 
this virtue is called discretion. The former, that is, 
fancy, without the help of judgment, is not commended 
as a virtue: but the latter which is judgment, and dis- 
cretion, is commended for itself, without the help of 
fancy. Besides the discretion of times, places, and per- 
sons, necessary to a good fancy, there is required also 
an often application of his thoughts to their end ; that 



180 LEVIATHAN 

is to say, to some use to be made of them. This done; 
he that hath this virtue, will be easily fitted with simil- 
itudes, that will please, not only by illustrations of his 
discourse, and adorning it with new and apt metaphors ; 
but also, by the rarity of their invention. But with- 
out steadiness, and direction to some end, a great fancy 
is one kind of madness ; such as they have, that entering 
into any discourse, are snatched from their purpose, by 
every thing that comes in their thought, into so many, 
and so long digressions, and parentheses, that they 
utterly lose themselves : which kind of folly, I know no 
particular name for: but the cause of it is, sometimes 
want of experience ; whereby that seemeth to a man 
new and rare, which doth not so to others : sometimes 
pusillanimity ; by which that seems great to him, which 
other men think a trifle : and whatsoever is new, or great, 
and therefore thought fit to be told, withdraws a man 
by degrees from the intended way of his discourse. 

In a good poem, whether it be epic, or dramatic; as 
also in sonnets, epigrams, and other pieces, both judg- 
ment and fancy are required : but the fancy must be 
more eminent : because they please for the extravagancy ; 
but ought not to please by indiscretion. 

In a good history, the judgment must be eminent; 
because the goodness consisteth, in the method, in the 
truth, and in the choice of the actions that are most 
profitable to be known. Fancy has no place, but only 
in adorning the style. 

In orations of praise, and in invectives, the fancy 
is predominant; because the design is not truth, but 
to honour or dishonour; which is done by noble, or by 
vile comparisons. The judgment does but suggest 
what circumstances make an action laudable, or cul- 
pable. 



INTELLECTUAL VIRTUES 181 

In hortatives, and pleadings, as truth, or disguise 
serveth best to the design in hand ; so is the judgment, 
or the fancy most required. 

In demonstration, in counsel, and all rigorous search 
of truth, judgment does all, except sometimes the under- 
standing have need to be opened by some apt similitude ; 
and then there is so much use of fancy. But for meta- 
phors, they are in this case utterly excluded. For seeing 
they openly profess deceit; to admit them into counsel, 
or reasoning, were manifest folly. 

And in any discourse whatsoever, if the defect of dis- 
cretion be apparent, how extravagant soever the fancy 
be, the whole discourse will be taken for a sign of want 
of wit; and so will it never when the discretion is 
manifest, though the fancy be never so ordinary. 

The secret thoughts of a man run over all things, 
holy, profane, clean, obscene, grave, and light, without 
shame, or blame; which verbal discourse cannot do, 
farther than the judgment shall approve of the time, 
place, and persons. An anatomist, or a physician may 
speak, or write his judgment of unclean things ; because 
it is not to please, but profit; but for another man to 
write his extravagant, and pleasant fancies of the same, 
is as if a man, from being tumbled into the dirt, should 
come and present himself before good company. And 
it is the want of discretion that makes the difference 
Again, in professed remissness of mind, and familiar 
company, a man may play with the sounds, and equivo- 
cal significations of words ; and that many times with en- 
counters of extraordinary fancy: but in a sermon, or in 
public, or before persons unknown, or whom we ought 
to reverence; there is no gingling of words that will 
not be accounted folly : and the difference is only in the 
want of discretion. So that where wit is wanting, it is 



i82 LEVIATHAN 

not fancy that is wanting, but discretion. Judgment 
therefore without fancy is wit, but fancy without judg- 
ment, not. 

When the thoughts of a man, that has a design in 
hand, running over a multitude of things, observes how 
they conduce to that design ; or what design they may 
conduce unto; if his observations be such as are not 
easy, or usual, this wit of his is called prudence; and 
depends on much experience, and memory of the like 
things, and their consequences heretofore. In which 
there is not so much difference of men ; as there is .in 
their fancies and judgment; because the experience of 
men equal in age, is not much unequal, as to the quan- 
tity ; but lies in different occasions ; every one having 
his private designs. To govern well a family, and a 
kingdom, are not different degrees of prudence; but 
different sorts of business ; no more than to draw a pic- 
ture in little, or as great, or greater than the life, are 
different degrees of art. A plain husbandman is more 
prudent in affairs of his own house, than a privy- 
councillor in the affairs of another man. 

To prudence, if you add the use of unjust, or dis- 
honest means, such as usually are prompted to men by 
fear, or want; you have that crooked wisdom, which is 
called craft; which is the sign of pusillanimity. For 
magnanimity is contempt of unjust, or dishonest helps. 
And that which the Latins call versutia, translated into 
English, shifting, and is a putting off of a present dang- 
er or incommodity, by engaging into a greater, as when 
a man robs one to pay another, is but a shorter-sighted 
craft, called versutia, from versura, which signifies tak- 
ing money at usury for the present payment of interest. 

As for acquired wit, I mean acquired by method 
and instruction, there is none but reason ; which is 



INTELLECTUAL VIRTUES 183 

grounded on the right use of speech, and produceth the 
sciences. But of reason and science I have already spok- 
en, in the fifth and sixth chapters. 

The causes of this difference of wits, are in the pas- 
sions ; and the difference of passions proceedeth, partly 
from the different constitution of the body, and partly 
from different education. For if the difference proceed- 
ed from the temper of the brain, and the organs of sense, 
either exterior or interior, there would be no less differ- 
ence of men in their sight, hearing, or other senses, than 
in their fancies and discretions. It proceeds therefore 
from the passions ; which are different, not only from 
the difference of men's complexions ; but also from their 
difference of customs, and education. 2 



Compare Human Nature, (M. IV. 54). "Having shewed 
in the precedent chapters, that sense proceedeth from the ac- 
tion of external objects upon the brain, or some internal sub- 
stance of the head; and that the passions proceed from the al- 
teration there made, and continued to the heart; it is conse- 
quent in the next place, seeing the diversity of degrees in knowl- 
edge in divers men, to be greater than may be ascribed to the 
divers tempers of their brain, to declare what other causes may 
produce such odds, and excess of capacity, as we daily observe 
in one man above another. As for that difference which ariseth 
from sickness, and such accidental distempers, I omit the same. 
as impertinent to this place, and consider it only in such as have 
their health, and organs well disposed. If the difference were 
in the natural temper of the brain, I can imagine no reason why 
the same should not appear first and most of all in the senses, 
which being equal both in the wise and less wise, infer an 
equal temper in the common organ (namely the brain) of all 
the senses. But we see by experience, that joy and grief proceed 
not in all men from the same causes, and that men differ very 
much in the constitution of the body ; whereby, that which help- 
eth and furthereth vital constitution in one, and is therefore de- 
lightful, hindereth it and crosseth it in another, and therefore 
causeth grief. The difference therefore of wits hath its original 
from the different passions, and from the ends to which the ap- 
petite leadeth them. And first, those men whose ends are sens- 
ual delight, and generally are addicted to ease, food, onerations 
and exonerations of the body, must needs be the less thereby de- 
lighted with those imaginations that conduce not to those ends. 



184 LEVIATHAN 

The passions that most of all cause the difference of 
wit, are principally, the more or less desire of power, 
of riches, of knowledge, and of honour. All which may] 
be reduced to the first, that is, desire of power. For 
riches, knowledge, and honour, are but several sorts of 
power. 

And therefore, a man who has no great passion for 
any of these things; but is, as men term it, indifferent; 
though he may be so far a good man, as to be free from 
giving offence; yet he cannot possibly have either a 
great fancy, or much judgment. For the thoughts are 
to the desires, as scouts, and spies, to range abroad, and 
find the way to the things desired: all steadiness of the 
mind's motion, and all quickness of the same, proceed- 
ing from thence : for as to have no desire, is to be dead : 
so to have weak passions, is dullness; and to have pas- 
sions indifferently for everything, giddiness, and dis- 
traction; and to have stronger and more vehement pas- 
sions for anything, than is ordinarily seen in others, is 
that which men call madness. 

Whereof there be almost as many kinds, as of the 
passions themselves. Sometimes the extraordinary and 
extravagant passion, proceedeth from the evil constitu- 
tion of the organs of the body, or harm done them; 
and sometimes the hurt, and indisposition of the organs, 



such as are imaginations of honour and glory, which, as I have 
said before, have respect to the future: for sensuality consisteth 
in the pleasure of the senses, which please only for the present, 
and take away the inclination to observe such things as conduce 
to honour, and consequently maketh men less curious, and less 
ambitious, whereby they less consider the way either to knowl- 
edge or other power; in which two consisteth all the excellency 
of power cognitive. And this is it which men call dullness, and 
proceedeth from the appetite of sensual or bodily delight. 
And it may well be conjectured that such passion hath its be- 
ginning from a grossness and difficulty of the motion of the spir- 
it about the heart." 



INTELLIGENT VIRTUES 185 

is caused by the vehemence, or long continuance of the 
passion. But in both cases the madness is of one and 
the same nature. 

The passion, whose violence, or continuance, maketh 
madness, is either great vain-glory; which is commonly 
called pride, and self-conceit; or great dejection of mind. 

Pride, subjecteth a man to anger, the excess where- 
of, is the madness called rage and fury. And thus it 
comes to pass that excessive desire of revenge, when it 
becomes habitual, hurteth the organs, and becomes rage : 
that excessive love, with jealousy, becomes also rage: 
excessive opinion of a man's own self, for divine inspir- 
ation, for wisdom, learning, form and the like, becomes 
distraction and giddiness: the same, joined with envy, 
rage: vehement opinion of the truth of anything, con- 
tradicted by others, rage. 

Dejection subjects a man to causeless fears; which 
is a madness, commonly called melancholy; apparent 
also in divers manners ; as in haunting of solitudes 
and graves; in superstitious behaviour; and in fearing, 
some one, some another particular thing. In sum, all 
passions that produce strange and unusual behaviour, 
are called by the general name of madness. But of the 
several kinds of madness, he that would take the pains, 
might enrol a legion. And if the excesses be madness, 
there is no doubt but the passions themselves, when 
they tend to evil, are degrees of the same. 

For example, though the effect of folly, in them that 
are possessed of an opinion of being inspired, be not 
visible always in one man, by any very extravagant ac- 
tion, that proceedeth from such passion ; yet, when many 
of them conspire together, the rage of the whole multi- 
tude is visible enough. For what argument of madness 
can there be greater, than to clamour, strike, and throw 



186 LEVIATHAN 

stones at our best friends? Yet this is somewhat less 
than such a multitude will do. For they will clamour, 
fight against, and destroy those, by whom all their life- 
time before, they have been protected, and secured from 
injury. And if this be madness in the multitude, it is 
the same in every particular man. For as in the midst of 
the sea, though a man perceive no sound of that part 
of the water next him, yet he is well assured, that part 
contributes as much to the roaring of the sea, as any oth- 
er part of the same quantity; so also, though we per- 
ceive no great unquietness in one or two men, yet we 
may be well assured, that their singular passions, are 
parts of the seditious roaring of a troubled nation. And 
if there were nothing else that bewrayed their madness; 
yet that very arrogating such inspiration to themselves, 
is argument enough. If some man in Bedlam should 
entertain you with sober discourse; and you desire in 
taking leave, to know what he were, that you might 
another time requite his civility; and he should tell you, 
he were God the Father; I think you need expect no 
extravagant action for argument of his madness. 

This opinion of inspiration, called commonly, private 
spirit, begins very often, from some lucky finding of an 
error generally held by others ; and not knowing, or not 
remembering, by what conduct of reason, they came to 
so singular a truth, (as they think it, though it be 
many times an untruth they light on) they presently 
admire themselves, as being in the special grace of God 
Almighty, who hath revealed the same to them super- 
naturally, by his Spirit. 

Again, that madness is nothing else, but too much 
appearing passion, may be gathered out of the effects 
of wine, which are the same with those of the evil dis- 
position of the organs. For the variety of behaviour 



INTELLECTUAL VIRTUES 18? 

in men that have drunk too much, is the same with that 
of madmen: some of them raging, others loving, others 
laughing, all extravagantly, but according to their sever- 
al domineering passions : for the effect of the wine, does 
but remove dissimulation, and take from them the sight 
of the deformity of their passions. For, I believe, the 
most sober men, when they walk alone without care and 
employment of the mind, would be unwilling the vanity 
and extravagance of their thoughts at that time should 
be publicly seen; which is a confession, that passions 
unguided, are for the most part mere madness. 

The opinions of the world, both in ancient and later 
ages, concerning the cause of madness, have been two. 
Some deriving them from the passions ; some, from de - 
mons, or spirits, either good or bad, which they thought 
might enter into a man, possess him, and move his organs 
in such strange and uncouth manner, as madmen use to do. 
The former sort therefore, called such men, madmen : but 
the latter, called them sometimes demoniacs, that is, pos- 
sessed with spirits; sometimes enurgumeni,tha.t is,agitated 
or moved with spirits ; and now in Italy they are called, 
not only pazzi, madmen ; but also spiritati, men pos- 
sessed. 

There was once a great conflux of people in Abdera, 
a city of the Greeks, at the acting of the tragedy of An- 
dromeda, upon an extreme hot day; whereupon, a great 
many of the spectators f piling into fevers, had this ac- 
cident from the heat, and from the tragedy together, 
that they did nothing but pronounce iambics, with the 
names of Perseus and Andromeda ; which, together with 
the fever, was cured by the coming on of winter; and 
this madness was thought to proceed from the passion 
imprinted by the tragedy. Likewise there reigned a fit 
of madness in another Grecian city, which seized only the 



188 LEVIATHAN 

young maidens; and caused many of them to hang 
themselves. This was by most then thought an act of 
the Devil. But one that suspected, that contempt of life 
in them, might proceed from some passion of the mind, 
and supposing that they did not contemn also their hon- 
our, gave counsel to the magistrates, to strip such as so 
hanged themselves, and let them hang out naked. This, 
the story says, cured that madness. But on the other 
side, the same Grecians, did often ascribe madness to 
the operation of Eumenides, or Furies ; and some- 
times of Ceres, Phoebus, and other gods; so much did 
men attribute to phantasms, as to think them aereal liv- 
ing bodies; and generally to call them spirits. And as 
the Romans in this, held the same opinion with the 
Greeks, so also did the Jews; for they called madmen 
prophets, or, according as they thought the spirits good 
or bad, demoniacs ; and some of them called both proph- 
ets and demoniacs, madmen; and some called the same 
man both demoniac, and madman. But for the Gentiles 
it is no wonder, because diseases and health, vices and 
virtues, and many natural accidents, were with them 
termed, and worshipped as demons. So that a man was 
to understand by demon, as well, sometimes an ague, 
as a devil. But for the Jews to have such opinion, is 
somewhat strange. For neither Moses nor Abraham 
pretended to prophecy by possession of a spirit ; but 
from the voice of God; or by a vision or dream: nor 
is there anything in his law, moral or ceremonial, by 
which they were taught, there was any such enthusiasm, 
or any possession. When God is said, (Numb. xi. 25) 
to take from the spirit that was in Moses, and give to 
the seventy elders, the Spirit of God (taking it for the 
substance of God) is not divided. The Scriptures, by 
the Spirit of God in man, mean a man's spirit, inclined 



INTELLECTUAL VIRTUES 189 

to godliness. And where it is said, (Exod. xxiii. 8) 
"whom I have filled with the spirit of wisdom to make 
garments for Aaron/' is not meant a spirit put into 
them, that can make garments, but the wisdom of their 
own spirits in that kind of work. In the like sense, the 
spirit of man, when it produceth unclean actions, is ordin- 
arily called an unclean spirit, and so other spirits, though 
not always, yet as often as the virtue or vice so styled, 
is extraordinary, and eminent. Neither did the other 
prophets of the old Testament pretend enthusiasm ; or, 
that God spake in them; but to them, by voice, vision, 
or dream; and the burthen of the Lord was not posses- 
sion, but command. How then could the Jews fall into 
this opinion of possession? I can imagine no reason, 
but that which is common to all men ; namely, the want 
of curiosity to search natural causes: and their placing 
felicity in the acquisition of the gross pleasures of the 
senses, and the things that most immediately conduce 
thereto. For they that see any strange, and unusual 
ability, or defect, in a man's mind; unless they see with- 
al, from what cause it may probably proceed, can hardly 
think it natural ; and if not natural, they must needs think 
it supernatural; and then what can it be, but 
that either God or the Devil is in him? And 
hence it came to pass, when our Saviour (Mark iii. 21) 
was compassed about with the multitude, those of the 
house doubted he was mad, and went out to hold him : 
but the Scribes said he had Beelzebub, and that was it, 
by which he cast out devils; as if the greater madman 
had awed the lesser: and that (John x. 20) some said, 
he hath a devil, and is mad; whereas others holding 
him for a prophet, said, these are not the words of one 
that hath a devil. So in the old Testament he that came 
to anoint Jehu, (2 Kings ix. 11) was a prophet; but 



igo LEVIATHAN 

some of the company asked Jehu, zvhat came that mad- 
man for? So that in sum, it is manifest, that whoso- 
ever behaved himself in extraordinary manner, was 
thought by the Jews to be possessed either with a good, 
or evil spirit ; except by the Sadducees, who erred so far 
on the other hand, as not to believe there were at all any 
spirits, which is very near to direct atheism ; and thereby 
perhaps the more provoked others to term such men 
demoniacs, rather than madmen. 

But why then does our Saviour proceed in the cur- 
ing of them, as if they were possessed; and not as if they 
were mad? To which I can give no other kind of 
answer, but that which is given to those that urge the 
Scripture in like manner against the opinion of the 
motion of the earth. The Scripture was written to 
shew unto men the kingdom of God, and to prepare 
their minds to become his obedient subjects; leaving 
the world, and the philosophy thereof, to the disputa- 
tion of men, for the exercising of their natural reason. 
Whether the earth's, or sun's motion make the day, and 
night ; or whether the exorbitant actions of men, pro- 
ceed from passion, or from the devil, so we worship 
him not, it is all one, as tcour obedience, and subjection 
to God Almighty ; which is the thing for which the 
Scripture was written. As for that our Saviour speak - 
eth to the disease, as to a person ; it is the usual phrase 
of ail that cure by words only, as Christ did, and en- 
chanters pretend to do, whether they speak to a devil 
or not. For is not Christ also said {Matt. viii. 26) to 
have rebuked the winds? Is not he said also (Luke 
iv- 39) t0 rebuke a fever? Yet this does not argue that a 
fever is a devil. And whereas many of the devils are 
said to confess Christ; it is not necessary to interpret 
those places otherwise, than that those madmen confessed 



INTELLECTUAL VIRTUES iqi 

him. And whereas our Saviour (Matt. xii. 43) speak- 
eth of an unclean spirit, that having gone out of a man, 
wandereth through dry places, seeking rest, and finding 
none, and returning into the same man, with seven oth- 
er spirits worse than himself ; it is manifestly a parable, 
alluding to a man, that after a little endeavour to quit 
his lusts, is vanquished by the strength of them; and 
becomes seven times worse than he was. So that I see 
nothing at all in the Scripture, that requireth a belief, 
that demoniacs were any other thing but madmen. 

There is yet another fault in the discourses of some 
men; which may also be numbered amongst the sorts of 
madness; namely, that abuse of words, whereof I have 
spoken before in the fifth chapter, bv the name of absurd- 
ity. And that is, when men speak such words, as put 
together, have in them no signification at all; but are 
fallen upon by some, through misunderstanding of the 
words they have received, and repeat by rote; by others 
from intention to deceive by obscurity. And this is in- 
cident to none but those, that converse in questions of 
matters incomprehensible, as the School-men; or in 
questions of abstruse philosophy. The common sort of 
men seldom speak insignificantly, and are therefore, by 
those other egregious persons counted idiots. But to be 
assured their words are without any thing correspond- 
ent to them in the mind, there would need some exam- 
ples; which if any man require, let him take a School- 
man in his hands and see if he can translate any one 
chafer concerning any difficult point, as the Trinity; 
the Deity ; the nature of Christ ; transubstantiation ; 
free-will, &c. into any of the modern tongues, so as to 
make the same intelligible; or into any tolerable Latin, 
such as they were acquainted withal, that lived when 
the Latin tongue was vulgar. What is the meaning of 



192 LEVIATHAN 

these words, The first cause does not necessarily inflow 
anything into the second, by force of the essential sub- 
ordination of the second causes, by which it may help 
it to work? They are the translation of the title of the 
sixth chapter of Snares' first book, Of the concourse, 
motion, and help of God. When men write whole vol- 
umes of such stuff, are they not mad, or intend to make 
others so? And particularly, in the question of transub- 
stantiation; where after certain words spoken; they that 
say, the whiten^,?, roundness, magnitude, quality, cor- 
ruptibility, all which are incorporeal, &c. go out of the 
wafer, into the body of our blessed Saviour, do they 
not make those nesses, tudes, and ties, to be so many 
spirits possessing his body? For by spirits, they mean 
always things, that being incorporeal, are nevertheless 
moveable from one place to another. So that this kind 
of absurdity, may rightly be numbered amongst the 
many sorts of madness ; and all the time that guided by 
clear thoughts of their worldly lust, they forbear dis- 
puting, or writing thus, but lucid intervals. And thus 
much of the virtues and defects intellectual. 



CHAPTER IX. 

■ \. ■ ■ 

OF THE SEVERAL SUBJECTS OF KNOWLEDGE. 

There are of knowledge two kinds; whereof one is 
knowledge of fact: the other knowledge of the conse- 
quence of one affirmation to another. The former is 
nothing else, but sense and memory, and is absolute 
knowledge ; as when we see a fact doing-, or remember 
it done : and this is the knowledge required in a witness. 
The latter is called science; and is conditional; as when 
we know, that, if the figure shown be a circle, then any 
straight line through the center shall divide it into two 
equal parts. And this is the knowledge required in a 
philosopher ; that is to say, of him that pretends to reas- 
oning. 

The register of knowledge of fact is called history. 
Whereof there be two sorts: one called natural history; 
which is the history of such facts, or effects of nature, 
as have no dependence on man's will; such as are the 
histories of metals, plants, animals, regions, and the 
like. The other, is civil history; which is the history 
of the voluntary actions of men in commonwealths. 

The registers of science, are such books as contain 
the demonstrations of consequences of one affirmation, 
to another; and are commonly called books of philos- 
ophy; whereof the sorts are many, according to the 
diversity of the matter; and may be divided in such 
manner as I have divided them in the following table. 1 



1 Compare on the general subject of knowledge and science 
Chapters V and VII of Leviathan. Also Philosophical Rudi- 
ments, (M. II, iii). "Wisdom, properly so called, is nothing 
else but this: the perfect knowledge of the truth in all matters 
whatsoever. Which being derived from the registers and records 
of things; and that as it were through the conduit of certain 



«94 



LEVIATHAN 
\ 



SCIENCE, 

that is. 
knowledge 
of conse- 
quences; • 
which is 
called also 

PHILOSO- 
PHY. 



Consequences 
from the ac- 
cidents of 
bodies natur- 
al: which is 
called NATUR- 
AL PHILOSO- 
PHY. 



Consequences from the accidents common to all 
bodies natural; which are quantity, and motion. 



PHYSICS 

or conse 

?: uences-( 
rom qua- 
lities. 



Consequences from the qualities 
of bodies transient, such as some 
times appear, some times vanish, 
Meteorology 



Consequences from the 
qualities of the stars. 



Conse- 

?iuences 
rom the 
qualities 
of bodies 
perma- 
nent. 



Consequences of the 
qualities from liquid 
bodies, that fill the 
space between the 
stars; such as are the 
air, or substances 
ethereal. 



Consequences from 
the qualities of bo- 
dies terrestial. 



Consequences 
from the ac- 
cidents of 
politic bodies; 
which is cal- 
led POLITICS, 
and civil 

PHILOSOPHY. 



i. Of consequences from the institution of Com- 
monwealths, to the rights and duties of the 
body Politic or sovereign. 



Of consequences from the same, to the duty 
and right of the subjects. 



SUBJECTS OF KNOWLEDGE 



195 



Consequences from quantity, and motion indeterminate; 
which being the principles or first foundation of philosophy, 
is called Philosophia Prima, 



Conse- 
quences 
from mo- 
tion and 
quantity 
determined 



Consequen- fBy Figure 
ces from 
q u an ti ty,-| 
and motion 
determined. ^By Number. 



'Consequences 
from the 
motion and 



Consequen- 
ces from the 
motion, and 
quantity of 
bodies in 

L special. 



qiuantity of 
the greater 
parts of the 
world, as 
the earth and 
stars. 



Mathematics. 



Cosmography. 



Philoso- 

PHIA 

Prima. 

fGEOMETRY. 



Arithmetic. 



S Astronomy. 
Geography. 



Consequences f 
from the mo- \ ,, , 
tions of spec-J Mechanics. 
ial kinds, and 1 Doctrine 
figures of" weight. 
body. ^ 



(Science 
. J of Fngineers. 
01 1 Architecture 
(.Navigation. 



Meteorology 



Consequences from the light of the stars. Out of this, and ic^ ir ,~ DAt> „ v 
the motion of the sun, is made the science of .... . J«- Iot » KA *' HY ' 

Consequences from the influences of the stars .... Astrology. 

Conse- f Consequences from the qualities of minerals, as 

?u e n c e s stones, metals, &c. 
ro m the 
parts of) 
the earth,! 
that are I 
■without I 
sense. (.Consequences from the qualities of vegetables. 

Consequen- f Consequences from vision. . . Optics. 
ces from the Consequences from sounds. . . Music, 
qualities of-j 

animals in Consequences from the rest of 
general. L the senses. 



Conse- 

?[ue nces 
rom the 
qualities 
of animals 



Consequen- 
ces from the 
qualities of 
men in spec- 
L ial. 



Consequences from the passions \ •p-„. r . c 
of men f ethics. 



i In persuading, Rhetoric. 



Consequences 
from speech.' ■, In - reasonin ^ LoGlc . 

tin contracting. The Science of 
Just and Un- 
just. 



CHAPTER X. 

OF POWER, WORTH, DIGNITY, HONOUR, AND 
WORTHINESS. 

The power of a man, to take it universally, is his pres- 
ent means; to obtain some future apparent good; and 
is either original or instrumental. 

Natural power, is the eminence of the faculties of 
body, or mind: as extraordinary strength, form, pru- 
dence, arts, eloquence, liberality, nobility. Instrumental 
are those powers, which acquired by these, or by fortune, 
are means and instruments to acquire more: as riches, 
reputation, friends, and the secret working of God, 
which men call good luck. For the nature of power, 
is in this point, like to fame, increasing as it proceeds; 
or like the motion of heavy bodies, which the further 
they go, make still the more haste. 

The greatest of human powers, is that which is com- 
pounded of the powers of most men, united by consent, 
in one person, natural, or civil, that has the use of all 
their powers depending on his will ; such as is the power 



definite appelations; cannot possibly be the work of a sudden 
acuteness, but of a well-balanced reason; which by the com- 
pendium of a word, we call philosophy. For by this it is that a 
way is open to us, in which we travel from the contemplation 
of particular things to the inference or result of universal ac- 
tions. Now look, how many sorts of things there are, which 
properly fall within the cognizance of human reason; into so 
many branches does the tree of philosophy divide itself. And 
from the diversity of the matter about which they are conversant, 
there hath been given to those branches a diversity of names too. 
For treating of figures, it is called geometry; of motion, physic; 
of natural right, morals; put altogether, and they make up phil- 
osophy. ^ Just as the British, the Atlantic, and the Indian seas, 
being diversely christened from the diversity of their shores, do 
notwithstanding all together make ud the ocean." 



OF POWER, WORTH, DIGNITY, ETC. 197 

of a common-wealth : or depending on the wills of each 
particular ; such as is the power of a faction or of divers 
factions leagued. Therefore to have servants, is power; 
to have friends, is power : for they are strengths united. 

Also riches joined with liberality, is power; because 
it procureth friends, and servants : without liberality, not 
so ; because in this case they defend not ; but expose men 
to envy, as a prey. 

Reputation of power, is power; because it draweth 
with it the adherence of those that need protection. 

So is reputation of love of a man's country, called 
popularity, for the same reason. 

Also, what quality soever maketh a man beloved, or 
feared of many; or the reputation of such quality, is 
power ; because it is a means to have the assistance, and 
service of many. 

Good success is power; because it maketh reputation 
of wisdom, or good fortune; which makes men either 
fear him, or rely on him. 

Affability of men already in power, is increase of 
power; because it gaineth love. 

Reputation of prudence in the conduct of peace or 
war, is power; because to prudent men, we commit the 
government of ourselves, more willingly than to others. 

Nobility is power, not in all places, but only in those 
commonwealths, where it has privileges : for in such 
privileges, consisteth their power. 

Eloquence is power, because it is seeming prudence. 

Form is power; because being a promise of good, 
it recommendeth men to the favour of women and 
strangers. 

The sciences, are small power; because not emi- 
nent; and therefore, not acknowledged in any man; nor 
are at all, but in a few, and in them, but of a few things. 



198 LEVIATHAN 

For science is of that nature, as none can understand it 
to be, but such as in a good measure have attained it. 

Arts of public use, as fortification, making of engines, 
and other instruments of war; because they confer to 
defence, and victory, are power: and though the true 
mother of them, be science, namely the mathematics ; yet, 
because they are brought into the light, by the hand 
of the artificer, they be esteemed, the midwife passing 
with the vulgar for the mother, as his issue. 

The value, or worth of a man, is as of all other 
things, his price; that is to say, so much as would be 
given for the use of his power: and therefore is not ab- 
solute; but a thing dependent on the need and judgment 
of another. An able conductor of soldiers, is of great 
price in time of war present, or imminent ; but in peace 
not so. A learned and uncorrupt judge, is much worth 
in time of peace; but not so much in war. And as in 
other things, so in men, not the seller, but the buyer de- 
termines the price. For let a man, as most men do, rate 
themselves at the highest value they can; yet their true 
value is no more than it is esteemed by others. 

The manifestation of the value we set on one another, 
is that which is commonly called honouring, and dishon- 
ouring. To value a man at a high rate, is to honour him ; 
at a low rate, is to dishonour him. But high, and low, 
in this case, is to be understood by comparison to the rate 
that each man setteth on himself. 1 



'Compare Human Nature, (M. IV. 37). "Conception of 
the future, is but a supposition of the same, proceeding from 
remembrance of what is past ; and we so far conceive that any- 
thing will be hereafter, as we know there is something at the 
present that hath power to produce it: and that anything hath 
power now to produce another thing hereafter, we cannot con- 
ceive, but by remembrance that it hath produced the like hereto- 
fore. Wherefore all conception of future, is conception of power 
able to produce something. Whosoever therefore expecteth pleas- 



OF POWER, WORTH, DIGNITY. ETC. 199 

The public worth of a man, which is the value se$ 
on him by the commonwealth, is that which men com- 
monly call dignity. And this value of him by the com- 
monwealth, is understood, by offices of command, judi- 
cature, public employment ; or by names and titles, intro- 
duced for distinction of such valu<'. 

To pray to another, for aid of any kind, is to hon- 
our ; because a sign we have an opinion he has power 
to help ; and the more difficult the aid is, the more is the 
honour. 

To obey, is to honour, because no man obeys them, 
whom they think have no power to help, or hurt them. 
And consequently to disobey, is to dishonour. 

To give great gifts to a man, is to honour him; be- 
cause it is buying of protection, and acknowledging of 
power. To give little gifts, is to dishonour; because 
it is but alms, and signifies an opinion of the need of 
small helps. 

To be sedulous in promoting another's good ; also to 
ilatter, is to honour; as a sign we seek his protection or 
aid. To neglect, is to dishonour. 



ure to come, must conceive withal some power in himself by which 
the same may be attained. And because the passions, whereof I 
am to speak next, consist in conception of the future, that is to 
say, in conception of power past, and the act to come ; before I 
go any further, I must in the next place speak somewhat con- 
cerning this power. By this power I mean the same with the fac- 
ulties of the body, nutritive, generative, motive, and of the 
mind, knowledge; and besides these, such further power as by 
them is acquired, viz. riches, place of authority, friendship or 
favour, and good fortune; which last is really nothing else but 
the favour of God Almighty. The contraries of these are im- 
potencies, infirmities, or defects of the said powers respectively, 
^nd because the power of one man resisteth and hindereth the 
effects of the power of another, power simply is no more, but 
the excess of the power of one above that of another- for equal 
powers opposed, destroy one another; and such their opposition 
is called contention." 



200 LEVIATHAN 

To give way, or place to another, in any commodity, 
is to honour; being a confession of greater power. To 
arrogate, is to dishonour. 

To show any sign of love, or fear of another, is to 
honour; for both to love, and to fear, is to value. To 
contemn, or less to love or fear, than he expects, is to 
dishonour; for it is undervaluing. 

To praise, magnify, or call happy, is to honour; be- 
cause nothing but goodness, power, and felicity is valued. 
To revile, mock, or pity, is to dishonour. 

To speak to another with consideration, to appear be- 
fore him with decency, and humility, is to honour him; 
as signs of fear to offend. To speak to him rashly, to 
do any thing before him obscenely, slovenly, impudently, 
is to dishonour. 

To believe, to trust, to rely on another, is to honour 
him ; sign of opinion of his virtue and power. To dis- 
trust, or not believe, is to dishonour. 

To hearken to a man's counsel, or discourse of what 
kind soever is to honour; as a sign we think him wise, 
or eloquent, or witty. To sleep, or go forth, or talk 
the while, is to dishonour. 

To do those things to another, which he takes for 
signs of honour, or which the law or custom makes so- 
is to honour; because in approving the honour done by 
others, he acknowledgeth the power which others ac- 
knowledge. To refuse to do them, is to dishonour. 

To agree with Li opinion, is to honour; as being a 
sign of approving his judgment, and wisdom. Tc dis- 
sent, is dishonour, and an upbraiding of error; and, 
if the dissent be in many things, of folly. 

To imitate, is to honour; for it is vehemently to ap- 
prove. To imitate one's enemy, is to dishonour. 

To honour those another honours, is to honour him; 



OF POWER, WORTH, DIGNITY, ETC. 201 

as a sign of approbation of his judgment. To honour 
his enemies, is to dishonour him. 

To employ in counsel, or in actions of difficulty, is 
to honour; as a sign of opinion of his wisdom, or other 
power. To deny employment in the same cases, to those 
that seek it, is to dishonour. 

All these ways of honouring, are natural; and as 
well within, as without commonwealths. But in com- 
monwealths, where he, or they that have the supreme 
authority, can make whatsoever they please, to stand for 
signs of honour, there be other honours. 

A sovereign doth honour a subject, with whatso- 
ever title, or office, or employment, or action, that he 
himself will have taken for a sign of his will to honour 
him. 

The king of Persia, honoured Mordecai, when he 
appointed he should be conducted through the streets 
in the king's garment, upon one of the king's horses, 
with a crown on his head, and a prince before him, pro- 
claiming, thus shall it be done to him that the king will 
honour. And yet another king of Persia, or the same 
another time, to one that demanded for some great serv- 
ice, to wear one of the king's robes, gave him leave so 
to do; but with this addition, that he should wear it as 
the king's fool; and then it was dishonour. So that of 
civil honour, the fountain is in the person of the com- 
monwealth, and dependeth on the will of the sovereign; 
and is therefore temporary, and called civil honour; 
such as magistracy, offices, titles; and in some places 
coats and scutcheons painted: and men honour such 
as have them, as having so many signs of favour in the 
commonwealth ; which favour is power. 

Honourable is whatsoever possession, action, or qual- 
ity, is an argument and sign of power. 



202 LEVIATHAN 

And therefore to be honoured, loved, or feared of 
many, is honourable; as arguments of power. To be 
honoured of few or none, dishonourable. 

Dominion, and victory is honourable; because ac- 
quired by power ; and servitude, for need, or fear, is dis- 
honourable. 

Good fortune, if lasting, honourable ; as a sign of the 
favour of God. Ill fortune, and losses, dishonourable. 
Riches, are honourable; for they are power. Poverty, 
dishonourable. Magnanimity, liberalty, hope, courage, 
confidence, are honourable; for they proceed from the 
conscience of power. Pusillanimity, parsimony, fear, 
diffidence, are dishonourable. 

Timely resolution, or determination of what a man 
is to do, is honourable; as being the contempt of small 
difficulties, and dangers. And irresolution, dishonour- 
able ; as a sign of too much valuing of little impediments, 
and little advantages: for when a man has weighed 
things as long as the time permits, and resolves not, 
the difference of weight is but little ; and therefore if he 
resolve not, he overvalues little things, which is pusillan- 
imity. 

All actions, and speeches, that proceed, or seem to 
proceed, from much experience, science, discretion, or 
wit, are honourable; for all these are powers. Actions, 
or words that proceed from error, ignorance, or folly, 
dishonourable. 

Gravity, as far forth as it seems to proceed from a 
mind employed on something else, is honourable; be- 
cause employment is a sign of power. But if it seem to 
proceed from a purpose to appear grave, it is dishon- 
ourable. For the gravity of the former, is like the stead- 
iness of a ship laden with merchandise ; but of the latter, 
like the steadiness of a ship ballasted with sand, and oth- 
er trash. 



OF POWER, WORTH, DIGNITY, ETC. 203 

To be conspicuous, that is to say, to be known, for 
wealth, office, great actions, or any eminent good, is 
honourable ; as a sign of the power for which he is con- 
spicuous. On the contrary, obscurity, is dishonourable. 

To be descended from conspicuous parents, is hon- 
ourable; because they the more easily attain the aids, 
and friends of their ancestors. On the contrary, to be 
descended from obscure parentage, is dishonourable. 

Actions proceeding from equity, joined with loss, 
are honourable; as signs of magnanimity: for magna- 
nimity is a sign of power. On the contrary, craft, shift- 
ing, neglect of equity, is dishonourable. 

Covetousness of great riches, and ambition of great 
honours, are honourable; as signs of power to obtain 
them. Covetousness, and ambition, of little gains, or 
preferments, is dishonourable. 

Nor does it alter the case of honour, whether an ac- 
tion, so it be great and difficult, and consequently a sign 
of much power, be just or unjust: for honour consisteth 
only in the opinion of power. Therefore the ancient 
heathen did not think they dishonoured, but greatly 
honoured the Gods, when they introduced them in their 
poems, committing rapes, thefts, and other great, but 
unjust, or unclean acts: insomuch as nothing is so much 
celebrated in Jupiter, as his adulteries; nor in Mercury, 
as his frauds, and thefts : of whose praises, in a hymn of 
Homer, the greatest is this, that being born in the morn- 
ing, he had invented music at noon, and before night, 
stolen away the cattle of Apollo, from his herdsmen. 

Also amongst men, till there were constituted great 
commonwealths, it was thought no dishonour to be a 
pirate, or a highway thief; but rather a lawful trade, 
not only amongst the Greeks, but also amongst all other 
nations ; as is manifest by the histories of ancient time. 



*>4 LEVIATHAN 

And at this day, in this part of the world, private duels 
are, and always will be honourable, though unlawful, 
till such time as there shall be honour ordained for them 
that refuse, and ignominy for them that make the chal-' 
lenge. For duels also are many times effects of courage ; 
and the ground of courage is always strength or skill, 
which are power; though for the most part they be 
effects of rash speaking, and of the fear of dishonour, 
in one, or both the combatants ; who engaged by rash- 
ness, are driven into the lists to avoid disgrace. 

Scutcheons, and coats of arms hereditary, where they 
have any eminent privileges, are honourable ; otherwise 
not: for their power consisteth either in such privileges, 
or in riches, or some such thing as is equally honoured 
in other men. This kind of honour, commonly called 
gentry, hath been derived from the ancient Germans. 
For there never was any such thing known, where the 
German customs were unknown. Nor is it now any 
where in use, where the Germans have not inhabited. 
The ancient Greek commanders, when they went to war, 
had their shields painted with such devices as they 
pleased; insomuch as an unpainted buckler was a sign of 
poverty, and of a common soldier ; but they* transmitted 
not the inheritance of them. The Romans transmitted 
the marks of their families: but they were the images, 
not the devices of their ancestors. Amongst the people 
of Asia, Africa, and America, there is not, nor was ever, 
any such thing. The Germans only had that custom; 
from whom it has been derived into England, France, 
Spain, and Italy, when in great numbers they either 
aided the Romans, or made their own conquests in these 
western parts of the world. 

For Germany, being anciently, as all other countries, 
in their beginnings, divided amongst an infinite num- 



OF POWER, WORTH, DIGNITY, ETC. 205 

ber of little lords, or masters of families, that contin- 
ually had wars one with another ; those masters, or lords, 
principally to the end they might, when they were cov- 
ered with arms, be known by their followers ; and part- 
ly for ornament, both painted their armour, or their 
scutcheon, or coat, with the picture of some beast, or 
other thing; and also put some eminent and visible mark 
upon the crest of their helmets. And this ornament both 
of the arms, and crest, descended by inheritance to their 
children; to the eldest pure, and to the rest with some 
note of diversity, such as the old master, that is to say 
in Dutch, the Here-alt thought fit. But when many such 
families, joined together, made a greater monarchy, this 
duty of the Herealt, to distinguish scutcheons, was made 
a private office apart. And the issue of these lords, is the 
great and ancient gentry; which for the most part bear 
living creatures, noted for courage, and rapine; or cas- 
tles, battlements, belts, weapons, bars, palisadoes, and 
other notes of war; nothing being then in honour, but 
virtue military. Afterwards, not only kings, but pop- 
ular commonwealths, gave divers manners of scutcheons, 
to such as went forth to the war, or returned from it. 
for encouragement, or recompense to their service. All 
which, by an observing reader, may be found in such 
ancient histories, Greek and Latin, as make mention of 
the German nation and manners, in their times. 

Titles of honour, such as are duke, count, marquis, 
and baron, are honourable; as signifying the value set 
upon them by the sovereign power of the commonwealth : 
which titles, were in old time titles of office, and com- 
mand, derived some from the Romans, some from the 
Germans and French : dukes, in Latin duces, being gen- 
erals in war: counts, comites, such as bear the general 
company out of friendship, and were left to govern and 



206 LEVIATHAN 

defend places conquered, and pacified: marquises, mar- 
chiones, were counts that governed the marches, or 
bounds of the empire. Which titles of duke, count, and 
marquis, came into the empire, about the time of Con- 
stantine the Great, from the customs of the German mil- 
itia. But baron, seems to have been a title of the Gauls, 
and signifies a great man; such as were the king's, or 
prince's men, whom they employed in war about their 
persons; and seems to be derived from vir, to ber, and 
bar, that signified the same in the language of the Gauls, 
that vir in Latin ; and thence to bero, and baro: so that 
such men were called berones, and after barones; and, 
in Spanish, varones. But he that would know more 
particularly the original of titles of honour, may find 
it, as I have done this, in Mr. Selden's most excel- 
lent treatise of that subject. In process of time these 
offices of honour, by occasion of trouble, and for reasons 
of good and peaceable government, were turned into 
mere titles; serving for the most part, to distinguish 
the precedence, place, and order of subjects in the com- 
monwealth : and men were made dukes, counts, mar- 
quises, and barons of places, wherein they had neither 
possession, nor command : and other titles also, were 
devised to the same end. 

Worthiness, is a thing different from the worth, 
or value of a man ; and also from his merit, or desert, and 
consisteth in a particular power, or ability for that, 
whereof he is said to be worthy: which particular abil- 
ity, is usually named fitness, or aptitude. 

For he is worthiest to be a commander, to be a judge, 
or to have any other charge, that is best fitted, with the 
qualities required to the well discharging of it; and 
worthiest of riches, that has the qualities most requisite 
for the well using of them : any of which qualities being 



OF POWER, WORTH, DIGNITY, ETC. 207 

absent, one may nevertheless be a worthy man, and valu- 
able for something else. Again, a man may be worthy 
of riches, office, and employment, that nevertheless, can 
plead no right to have it before another; and therefore 
cannot be said to merit or deserve it. For merit pre- 
supposeth a right, and that the thing deserved is due 
by promise: of which I shall say more hereafter, when 
I shall speak of contracts. 



CHAPTER XL 

OF THE DIFFERENCE OF MANNERS. 

By manners, I mean not here, decency of behaviour; 
as how one should salute another, or how a man should 
wash his mouth or pick his teeth before company, and 
such other points of the small morals; but those qualities 
of mankind, that concern their living together in peace, 
and unity. To which end we are to consider, that the fe- 
licity of this life, consisteth not in the repose of a mind 
satisfied. For there is no such -finis ultimus, utmost aim, 
nor summum bonum, greatest good, as is spoken of in 
the books of the old moral philosophers. Nor can a 
man any more live, whose desires are at an end, than he, 
whose senses and imaginations are at a stand. Felicity 
is a continual progress of the desire, from one object 
to another ; the attaining of the former, being still but the 
way to the latter. The cause whereof is, that the object 
of man's desire, is not to enjoy once only, and for one in- 
stant of time ; but to assure forever, the way of his fu- 
ture desire. And therefore the voluntary actions, and 
inclinations of all men, tend, not only to the procuring, 
but also to the assuring of a contented life; and differ 
only in the way: which ariseth partly from the diversity 
of passions, in divers men; and partly from the differ- 
ence of the knowledge, or opinion each one has of the 
causes, which produce the effect desired. 

So that in the first place, I put for a general inclina- 
tion of all mankind, a perpetual and restless desire of 
power after power, that ceaseth only in death. And the 
cause of this, is not always that a man hopes for a more 
intensive delight, than he has already attained to ; or that 
he cannot be content with a moderate power : but because 



Q? MANNERS 209 

he cannot assure the power and means to live well, which 
he hath present, without the acquisition of more. And 
from hence it is, that kings, whose power is greatest, 
turn their endeavours to the assuring it at home by laws, 
or abroad by wars : and when that is done, there succeed- 
ed a new desire; in some, of fame from new conquest; 
in others, of ease and sensual pleasure; in others, of 
admiration, or being flattered for excellence in some art, 
or other ability of the mind. 1 

Competition of riches, honour, command, or other 
power, inclineth to contention, enmity, and war: because 
the way of one competitor, to the attaining of his desire, 
is to kill, subdue, supplant, or repel the other. Particu- 
larly, competition of praise, inclineth to a reverence of 
antiquity. For men contend with the living, not with 
the dead; to these ascribing more than due, that they 
may obscure the glory of the other. 

Desire of ease, and sensual delight, disposeth men to 
obey a common power: because by such desires, a man 
doth abandon the protection that might be hoped for 
from his own industry, and labour. Fear of death, 
and wounds, disposeth to the same ; and for the same 



Compare Human Nature, (M. IV, 33). "Seeing all de- 
light is appetite, and presupposeth a further end, there can be 
no contentment but in proceeding: and therefore we are not to 
marvel, when we see, that as men attain to more riches, honour, 
or other power; so their appetite continually groweth more and 
more; and when they are come to the utmost degree of some 
kind of power, they pursue some other, as long as in any kind 
they think themselves behind any other: of those therefore that 
have attained to the highest degree of honour and riches, some 
have affected mastery in some art ; as Nero in music and poetry, 
Commodus in the art of a gladiator ; and such as affect not some 
such thing, must find diversion and recreation of their thoughts 
in the contention either of play or business: and men justly com- 
plain of a great grief, that they know not what to do. Felicity, 
therefore, by which we mean continual delight, consisteth not in 
having prospered, but in prospering." 



2*o LEVIATHAN 

reason. On the contrary, needy men, and hardy, not 
contented with their present condition; as also, all men 
that are ambitious of military command, are inclined to 
continue the causes of war; and to stir up trouble and 
sedition: for there is no honour military but by war; 
nor any such hope to mend an ill game, as by causing a 
new shuffle. 

Desire of knowledge, and arts of peace, inclineth men 
to obey a common power: for such desire, containeth 
a desire of leisure; and consequently protection from 
some other power than their own. 

Desire of praise, disposeth to laudable actions, such 
as please them whose judgment they value; for of those 
men whom we contemn, we contemn also the praises. 
Desire of fame after death does the same. And though 
after death, there be no sense of the praise given us 
on earth, as being joys, that are either swallowed up in 
the unspeakable joys of Heaven, or extinguished in the 
extreme torments of hell : yet is not such fame vain ; be- 
cause men have a present delight therein, from the fore- 
sight of it, and of the benefit that may redound thereby 
to their posterity: which though they now see not, yet 
they imagine ; and anything that is pleasure to the sense, 
the same also is pleasure in the imagination. 

To have received from one, to whom we think our- 
selves equal, greater benefits than there is hope to re- 
quite, disposeth to counterfeit love; but really secret 
hatred; and puts a man into the estate of a desperate 
debtor, that in declining the sight of his creditor, tacitly 
wishes him there, where he might never see him more. 
For benefits oblige, and obligation is thraldom; and un- 
requitable obligation perpetual thraldom; which is 
to one's equal, hateful. But to have received benefits 
from one, whom we acknowledge for superior, inclines 



OF MANNERS 211 

to love; because the obligation is no new depression: 
and cheerful acceptation, which men call gratitude, is 
such an honour done to the obliger, as is taken generally 
for retribution. Also to receive benefits, though from an 
equal, or inferior, as long as there is hope of requital, 
disposeth to love : for in the intention of the receiver, the 
obligation is of aid and service mutual; from whence 
proceedeth an emulation of who shall exceed in benefit- 
ing; the most noble and profitable contention possible; 
wherein the victor is pleased with his victory, and the 
other revenged by confessing it. 

To have done more hurt to a man, than he can, or is 
willing to expiate, inclineth the doer to hate the sufferer. 
For he must expect revenge, or forgiveness ; both which 
are hateful. 

Fear of oppression, disposeth a man to anticipate, or 
to seek aid by society : for there is no other way by which 
a man can secure his life and liberty. 

Men that distrust their own subtlety, are, in tumult 
and sedition, better disposed for victory, than they that 
suppose themselves wise, or crafty. For these love to 
consult, the other, fearing to be circumvented, to strike 
first. And in sedition, men being always in the pre- 
cincts of battle, to hold together, and use all advantages 
of force, is a better strategem, than any that can proceed 
from subtlety of wit. 

Vain-glorious men, such as without being conscious 
to themselves of great sufficiency, delight in supposing 
themselves gallant men, are inclined only to ostentation ; 
but not to attempt : because when danger or difficulty 
appears, they look for nothing but to have their insuf- 
ficiency discovered. 

Vain-glorious men, such as estimate their sufficiency 
by the flattery of other men, or the fortune of some pre- 



212 LEVIATHAN 

cedent action, without assured ground of hope from the 
true knowledge of themselves, are inclined to rash en- 
gaging ; and in the approach of danger, or difficulty, to 
retire if they can : because not seeing the way of safety, 
they will rather hazard their honour, which may be salved 
with an excuse ; than their lives, for which no salve is 
sufficient. 

Men that have a strong opinion of their own wisdom 
in matter of government, are disposed to ambition. Be- 
cause without public employment in council or magis- 
tracy, the honour of their wisdom is lost. And therefore 
eloquent speakers are inclined to ambition ; for eloquence 
seemeth wisdom, both to* themselves and others. 

Pusillanimity disposeth men to irresolution, and con- 
sequently to lose the occasions, and fittest opportunities 
of action. For after men have been in deliberation till the 
time of action approach ; if it be not then manifest what 
is best to be done, it is a sign, the difference of motives, 
the one way and the other, are not great : therefore not to 
resolve then, is to lose the occasion by weighing of trifles ; 
which is pusillanimity. 

Frugality, though in poor men a virtue, maketh a 
man unapt to achieve such actions, as require the 
strength of many men at once: for it weakeneth their 
endeavour, which is to be nourished and kept in vigor 
by reward. 

Eloquence, with flattery, disposeth men to confide in 
them that have it; because the former is seeming wis- 
dom, the latter seeming kindness. Add to them mil- 
itary reputation, and it disposeth men to adhere, and 
subject themselves to those men that have them. The 
two former having given them caution against danger 
from him; the latter gives them caution against danger 
from others. 



OF MANNERS 213 

Want of science, that is, ignorance of causes, dispos- 
eth, or rather constraineth a man to rely on the advice, 
and authority of others. For all men whom the truth 
concerns, if they rely not on their own, must rely on the 
opinion of some othe^ whom they think wiser than 
themselves, and see not why he should deceive them. 

Ignorance of the signification of words, which is 
want of understanding, disposeth men to take on trust, 
not only the truth they know not ; but also the errors ; 
and which is more, the nonsense of them they trust: for 
neither error nor nonsense, can without a perfect un- 
derstanding of words, be detected. 

From the same it proceedeth, that men give different 
names, to one and the same thing, from the difference of 
their own passions : as they that approve a private opin- 
ion, call it opinion; but they that mislike it, heresy: and 
yet heresy signifies no more than private opinion ; but has 
only a greater tincture of choler. 

From the same also it proceedeth, that men cannot 
distinguish, without study and great understanding, be- 
tween one action of many men, and many actions of one 
multitude; as for example, between one action of all the 
senators of Rome in killing Cataline, and the many ac- 
tions of a number of senators in killing Caesar ; and there- 
fore are disposed to take for the action of the people, that 
which is a multitude of actions done by a multitude of 
men, led perhaps by the persuasion of one. 

Ignorance of the causes, and original constitution of 
right, equity, law, and justice, disposeth a man to make 
custom and example the rule of his actions ; in such man- 
ner, as to think that unjust which it hath been the custom 
to punish ; and that just, of the impunity and approbation 
whereof they can produce an example, or, as the lawyers 
which only use this false measure of justice barbarous- 



214 LEVIATHAN 

ly call it, a precedent ; like little children, that have no 
other rule of good and evil manners, but the correction 
they receive from their parents and masters; save that 
children are constant to their rule, whereas, men are not 
so; because grown old, and stubborn, they appeal from 
custom to reason, and from reason to custom, as it serves 
their turn; receding from custom when their interest 
requires it, and setting themselves against reason, as 
oft as reason is against them: which is the cause, 
that the doctrine of right and wrong, is perpet- 
ually disputed, both by the pen and the sword: 
whereas the doctrine of lines, and figures, is not so; be- 
cause men care not, in that subject, what be truth, as a 
thing that crosses no man's ambition, profit, or lust. 
For I doubt not, but if it had been a thing contrary to 
any man's right of dominion, or to the interest of men 
that have dominion, that the three angles of a triangle, 
should be equal to two angles of a square; that doctrine 
should have been, if not disputed, yet by the burning of 
all books of geometry, suppressed, as far as he whom it 
concerned was able. 

Ignorance of remote causes, disposeth men to attrib- 
ute all events, to the causes immediate, and instrumen- 
tal: for these are all the causes they perceive. And 
hence it comes to pass, that in all places, men that are 
grieved with payments to the public, discharge their 
anger upon the publicans, that is to say, farmers, col- 
lectors, and other officers of the public revenue ; and ad- 
here to such as find fault with the public government; 
and thereby, when they have engaged themselves beyond 
hope of justification, fall also upon the supreme author- 
ity, for fear of punishment, or shame of receiving par- 
don. 
Ignorance of natural causes, disposeth a man to cred- 



OF MANNERS 215 

ulity, so as to believe many times impossibilities: for 
such know nothing to the contrary, but that they may be 
true; being unable to detect the impossibility. And 
credulity, because men like to be hearkened unto in com- 
pany, disposeth them to lying: so that ignorance itself 
without malice, is able to make a man both to believe 
lies, and tell them; and sometimes also to invent them. 

Anxiety for the future time, disposeth men to in- 
quire into the causes of things: because the knowledge 
of them, maketh men the better able to order the present 
to their best advantage. 

Curiosity, or love of the knowledge of causes, draws 
a man from the consideration of the effect, to seek the 
cause ; and again, the cause of that cause ; till of necessi- 
ty he must come to this thought at last, that there is 
some cause, whereof there is no former cause, but is 
eternal; which is it men call God. So that it is im- 
possible to make any profound inquiry into natural 
causes, without being inclined thereby to believe there 
is one God eternal; though they cannot have any idea 
of him in their mind, answerable to his nature. For as a 
man that is born blind, hearing men talk of warming them- 
selves by the fire, and being brought to warm himself 
by the same, may easily conceive, and assure himself, 
there is somewhat there, which men call fire, and is the 
cause of the heat he feels ; but cannot imagine what it is 
like; nor have an idea of it in his mind, such as they have 
that see it: so also by the visible things in this world, 
and their admirable order, a man may conceive there is 
a cause of them, which men call God; and yet not have 
an idea, or image of him in his mind. 

And they that make little, or no inquiry into the nat- 
ural causes of things, yet from the fear that proceeds 
from the ignorance itself, of what it is that hath the 



2i6 LEVIATHAN 

power to do them much good or harm, are inclined to 
suppose, and feign unto themselves, several kinds of 
powers invisible ; and to stand in awe of their own imag- 
inations ; and in time of distress to invoke them ; as also 
in the time of an expected good success, to give them 
thanks; making the creatures of their own fancy, their 
gods. By which means it hath come to pass, that from the 
innumerable variety of fancy, men have created in the 
world innumerable sorts of gods. And this fear of 
things invisible, is the natural seed of that, which every 
one in himself calleth religion ; and in them that worship, 
or fear that power otherwise than they do, superstition. 
And this seed of religion, having been observed by 
many ; some of those that have observed it, have been in- 
clined thereby to nourish, dress, and form it into laws ; 
and to add to it of their own invention, any opinion of 
the causes of future events, by which they thought they 
should be best able to govern others, and make unto 
themselves the greatest use of their powers. 



CHAPTER XII. 

OE RELIGION. 

Seeing there are no signs, nor fruit of religion, 
but in man only; there is no cause to doubt, but that the 
seed of religion, is also only in man; and consisteth in 
some peculiar quality, or at least in some eminent degree 
thereof, not to be found in any other living creatures. 

And first, it is peculiar to the nature of man, to be 
inquisitive into the causes of the events they see, some 
more, some less ; but all men so much, as to be curious in 
the search of the causes of their own good and evil 
fortune. 

Secondly, upon the sight of anything that hath a be- 
ginning, to think also it had a cause, which determined 
the same to begin, then when it did, rather than sooner 
or later. 

Thirdly, whereas there is no other felicity of beasts, 
but the enjoying of their quotidian food, ease, and lusts ; 
as having little or no foresight of the time to come, for 
want of observation, and memory of the order, conse- 
quence, and dependence of the things they see ; man ob- 
serveth how one event hath been produced by another; 
and remembereth in them antecedence and consequence; 
and when he cannot assure himself of the true causes 
of things, (for the causes of good and evil fortune 
for the most part are invisible,) he supposes causes of 
them, either such as his own fancy suggesteth ; or trust- 
eth the authority of other men, such as he thinks to be 
his friends, and wiser than himself. 

The two first, make anxiety. For being assured 
that there be causes of all things that have arrived hither- 
to, or shall arrive hereafter; it is impossible for a man, 



2i 8 LEVIATHAN 

who continually endeavoureth to secure himself against 
the evil he fears, and procure the good he desireth, not 
to be in a perpetual solicitude of the time to come ; so that 
every man, especially those that are over provident, are in 
a state like to that of Prometheus. For as Prometheus, 
which interpreted, is, the prudent man, was bound to the 
hill Caucasus, a place of large prospect, where, an eagle 
feeding on his liver, devoured in the day, as much as was 
repaired in the night: so that man, which looks too far 
before him, in the care of future time, hath his heart all 
the day long, gnawed on by fear of death, poverty, or 
other calamity ; and has no repose, nor pause of. his anxi- 
ety, but in sleep. 

This perpetual fear, always accompanying mankind 
in the ignorance of causes, as it were in the dark, must 
needs have for object something. And therefore when 
there is nothing to be seen, there is nothing to accuse, 
either of their good, or evil fortune, but some power, 
or agent invisible: in which sense perhaps it was, 
that some of the old poets said, that the gods were at 
first created by human fear: which spoken of the gods, 
that is to say, of the many gods of the Gentiles, is very 
true. But the acknowledging of one God, eternal, 
infinite, and omnipotent, may more easily be derived, 
from the desire men have to know the causes of natural 
bodies, and their several virtues, and operations; than 
from the fear of what was to befall them in time to 
come. For he that from any effect he seeth come to pass, 
should reason to the next and immediate cause thereof, 
and from thence to the cause of that cause, and plunge 
himself profoundly in the pursuit of causes ; shall at last 
come to this, that there must be, as even the heathen phil- 
osophers confessed, one first mover; that is, a first, and 
an eternal cause of all things ; which is that which men 



OF RELIGION 219 

mean by the name of God: and all this without thought 
of their fortune ; the solicitude whereof, both inclines to 
fear, and hinders them from the search of the causes of 
other things; and thereby gives occasion of feigning of 
as many gods, as there be men that feign them. 

And for the matter, or substance of the invisible 
agents, so fancied ; they could not by natural cogitation, 
fall upon any other conceit, but that it was the same with 
that of the soul of man ; and that the soul of man, was 
of the same substance, with that which appeareth in 
a dream, to one that sleepeth; or in a looking-glass, 
to one that is awake ; which, men not knowing that such 
apparitions are nothing else but creatures of the fancy, 
think to be real, and external substances; and therefore 
call them ghosts; as the Latins called them imagines, 
and umbrae; and thought them spirits, that is, thin aerial 
bodies; and those invisible agents, which they feared, 
to be like them ; save that they appear, and vanish when 
they please. But the opinion that such spirits were in- 
corporeal, or immaterial, could never enter into the mind 
of any man by nature ; because, though men may put to- 
gether words of contradictory signification, as spirit, and 
incorporeal; yet they can never have the imagination of 
any thing answering to them : and therefore, men that 
by their own meditation, arrive to the acknowledgment 
of one infinite, omnipotent, and eternal God, chose rather 
to confess he is incomprehensible, and above their under- 
standing, than to define his nature by spirit incorporeal, 
and then confess their definition to be unintelligible : or if 
they give him such a title, it is not dogmatically, with in- 
tention to make the divine nature understood ; but piously, 
to honour him with attributes, of significations, as remote 
as they can from the grossness of bodies visible. 

Then, for the way by which they think these invis- 



220 LEVIATHAN 

ible agents wrought their effects; that is to say, what 
immediate causes they used, in bringing things to pass, 
men that know not what it is that we call causing, that 
is, almost all men, have no other rule to guess by, but by 
observing, and remembering what they have seen to pre- 
cede the like effect at some other time, or times before, 
without seeing between the antecedent and subsequent 
event, any dependence or connexion at all: and therefore 
from the like things past, they expect the like things to 
come; and hope for good or evil luck, superstitiously, 
from things that have no part at all in the causing of it: 
as the Athenians did for their war at Lepanto, demand 
another Phormio; the Pompeian faction for their war in 
Africa, another Scipio; and others have done in divers 
other occasions since. In like manner they attribute their 
fortune to a stander by, to a lucky or unlucky place, to 
words spoken, especially if the name of God be amongst 
them ; as charming and conjuring, the liturgy of witches; 
insomuch as to believe, they have power to turn a stone 
into bread, bread into a man, or any thing into any thing. 

Thirdly, for the worship which naturally men exhibit 
to powers invisible, it can be no other, but such expres- 
sions of their reverence, as they would use towards men ; 
gifts, petitions, thanks, submission of body, considerate 
addresses, sober behaviour, premeditated words, swear- 
ing, that is, assuring one another of +heir promises, by 
invoking them. Beyond that reason suggesteth nothing; 
but leaves them either to rest there; or for further cere- 
monies, to rely on those they believe to be wiser than 
themselves. 

Lastly, concerning how these invisible powers declare 
to men the things which shall hereafter come to pass, es- 
pecially concerning their good or evil fortune in general, 
or good or ill success in any particular undertaking, men 



OF RELIGION 221 

are naturally at a stand; save that using to conjecture of 
the time to come, by the time past, they are very apt, not 
only to take casual things, after one or two encounters, for 
prognostics of the like encounter ever after, but also to 
believe the like prognostics from other men, of whom 
they have once conceived a good opinion. 

And in these four things, opinion of ghosts, ignorance 
of second causes, devotion towards what men fear, and 
taking of things casual for prognostics, consisteth the 
natural seed of religion; which by reason of the different 
fancies, judgments, and passions of several men, hath 
grown up into ceremonies so different, 1hat those which 
are used by one man, are for the most part ridiculous to 
another. 

For these seeds have received culture from two sorts 
of men. One sort have been they, that have nourished, 
and ordered them, according to their own invention, The 
other have done it, by God's commandment, and direc- 
tion, but both sorts have done it, with a purpose to 
make those men that relied on them, the more apt to 
obedience, laws, peace, charity, and civil society. So 
that the religion of the former sort, is a part of hu- 
man politics ; and teacheth part of the duty which earth- 
ly kings require of their subjects. And the religion of 
the latter sort is divine politics ; and containeth precepts 
to those that have yielded themselves subjects in the king- 
dom of God. Of the former sort, were all the founders 
of common-wealths, and the law-givers of the Gentiles: 
of the latter sort, were Abraham, Moses, and our blessed 
Saviour ; by whom have been derived unto us the laws of 
the kingdom of God. 

And for that part of religion, which consisteth in 
opinions concerning the nature of powers invisible, there 
is almost nothing that has a name, that has not been 



222 LEVIATHAN 

esteemed amongst the Gentiles, in one place or another, 
a god, or devil ; or by their poets feigned to be inanimated, 
inhabited, or possessed by some spirit or other. 

The unformed matter of the world, was a god, by 
the name of Chaos. 

The heaven, the ocean, the planets, the fire, the earth, 
the winds, were so many gods. 

Men, women, a bird, a crocodile, a calf, a dog, a 
snake, an onion, a leek, were deified. Besides that, they 
filled almost all places, with spirits called demons: the 
plains, with Pan, and Panises, or Satyrs; the woods, 
with Fawns, and Nymphs ; the sea, with Tritons, and 
other Nymphs; every river, and fountain, with a ghost 
oi his name, and with Nymphs ; every house with its 
Lares, or familiars; every man with his Genius; hell 
with ghosts, and spiritual officers, as Charon, Cerberus, 
and the Furies; and in the night time, all places with 
larvae, lemures, ghosts of men deceased, and a whole 
kingdom of fairies and bugbears. They have also as- 
cribed divinity, and built temples to mere accidents, and 
qualities; such as are time, night, day, peace, concord, 
love, contention, virtue, honour, health, rust, fever, and 
the like ; which when they prayed for, or against, they 
prayed to, as if there were ghosts of those names hanging 
over their heads, and letting fall, or withholding that 
good, or evil, for, or against which they prayed. They 
invoked also their own wit, by the name of Muses ; their 
own ignorance, by the name of Fortune ; their own lusts 
by the name of Cupid; their own rage, by the name of 
Furies ; their own privy members, by the name of Pria- 
pus ; and attributed their pollutions, to Tncubi, and Suc- 
cubse : insomuch as there was nothing, which a poet could 
introduce as a person in his poem, which they did not 
make either a god, or a devil. 



OF RELIGION 223 

The same authors of the religion of the Gentiles, ob- 
serving the second ground for religion, which is men's 
ignorance of causes; and thereby their aptness to attri- 
bute their fortune to causes, on which there was no de- 
pendence at all apparent, took occasion to obtrude on 
their ignorance, instead of second causes, a kind of sec- 
ond and ministerial gods ; ascribing the cause of fecundi- 
ty, to Venus ; the cause of arts, to Apollo ; of subtlety and 
craft, to Mercury; of tempests and storms, to Aeolus; 
and of other effects, to other gods ; insomuch as there was 
amongst the heathen almost as great variety of gods, 
as of business. 

And to the worship, which naturally men conceived 
fit to be used towards their gods, namely, oblations, 
prayers, thanks, and the rest formerly named; the same 
legislators of the Gentiles have added their images, both 
in picture, and sculpture; that the more ignorant sort, 
that is to say, the most part or generality of the people, 
thinking the gods for whose representation they were 
made, were really included, and as it were housed within 
them, might so much the more stand in fear of them: 
and endowed them with lands, and houses, and officers, 
and revenues, set apart from all other human uses; that 
is, consecrated, and made holy to those their idols; as 
caverns, groves, woods, mountains, and whole islands; 
and have attributed to them, not only the shapes, some 
of men, some of beasts, some of monsters; but also the 
faculties, and passions of men and beasts : as sense, 
speech, sex, lust, generation, and this not only bv mixing 
one with another, to propagate the kind of gods ; but also 
by mixing with men, and women, to beget mongrel gods, 
and but inmates of heaven, as Bacchus, Hercules, and 
others; besides anger, revenge, and other passions of 
living creatures, and the actions proceeding from them, 



224 LEVIATHAN 

as fraud, theft, adultery, sodomy, and any vice that may 
be taken for an effect of power, or a cause of pleasure; 
and all such vices, as amongst men are taken to be 
against law, rather than against honour. 

Lastly, to the prognostics of time to come ; which are 
naturally, but conjectures upon experience of time past; 
and supernaturally, divine revelation; the same authors 
of the religion of the Gentiles, partly upon pretended 
experience, partly upon pretended revelation, have added 
innumerable other superstitious ways of divination; and 
made men believe they should find their fortunes, some- 
times in the ambiguous or senseless answers of the priests 
at Delphi, Delos, Amnion, and other famous oracles; 
which answers, were made ambiguous by design, to own 
the event both ways ; or absurd, by the intoxicating vapour 
of the place, which is very frequent in sulphurous cav- 
erns: sometimes in the leaves of the Sybils; of whose 
prophecies, like those perhaps of Nostradamus (for the 
fragments now extant seem to be the invention of later 
times), there were some books in reputation in the time 
of the Roman republic: sometimes in the insignificant 
speeches of madmen, supposed to be possessed with a 
divine spirit, which possession they called enthusiasm; 
and these kinds of foretelling events, were accounted 
theomancy, or prophecy: sometimes in the aspect of 
the stars at their nativity; which was called horoscopy, 
and esteemed a part of judiciary astrology: sometimes 
in their own hopes and fears, called thumomancy, or 
presage : sometimes in the prediction of witches, that pre- 
tended conference with the dead; which is called necro- 
mancy, conjuring, and witchcraft; and is but juggling and 
confederate knavery: sometimes in the casual flight, or 
feeding of birds ; called augury : sometimes in the entrails 
of a sacrificed beast ; which was aruspicina: sometimes in 



OF RELIGION 225 

dreams : sometimes in croaking of ravens, or chattering of 
birds : sometimes in the lineaments of the face ; which was 
called metoposcopy; or by palmistry in the lines of the 
hand; in casual words, called omina: sometimes in mon- 
sters, or unusual accidents; as eclipses, comets, rare me- 
teors, earthquakes, inundations, uncouth births, and the 
like, which they call portenta, and ostenta, because they 
thought them to portend, or foreshow some great calam- 
ity to come; sometimes, in mere lottery, as cross and pile; 
counting holes in a sieve; dipping of verses in Homer, 
and Virgil ; and innumerable other such vain conceits. So 
easy are men to be drawn to believe any thing, from 
such men as have gotten credit with them ; and can with 
gentleness, and dexterity, take hold of their fear, and 
ignorance. 

And therefore the first founders, and legislators of 
commonwealths among the Gentiles, whose ends were 
only to keep the people in obedience, and peace, have 
in all places taken care; first, to imprint in their minds 
a belief, that those precepts which they gave concerning 
religion, might not be thought to proceed from their own 
device, but from the dictates of some god, or other spirit ; 
or else that they themselves were of a higher nature than 
mere mortals, that their laws might the more easily be 
received: so Numa Pompilius pretended to receive the 
ceremonies he instituted amongst the Romans, from the 
nymph Egeria : and the first king and founder of the 
kingdom of Peru, pretended himself and his wife to be 
the children of the Sun ; and Mahomet, to set up his new 
religion, pretended to have conferences with the Holy 
Ghost, in form of a dove. Secondly, they have had a 
care, to make it believed, that the same things were dis- 
pleasing to the gods, which were forbidden by the laws. 
Thirdly, to prescribe ceremonies, supplications, sacrifices, 



226 LEVIATHAN 

and festivals, by which they were to believe, the anger 
of the gods might be appeased ; and that ill success in 
war, great contagions of sickness, earthquakes, and each 
man's private misery, came from the anger of the gods, 
and their anger from the neglect of their worship, or 
the forgetting, or mistaking some point of the ceremon- 
ies required. And though amongst the ancient Romans, 
men were not forbidden to deny, that which in the poets 
is written of the pains, and pleasures after this life: 
which divers of great authority, and gravity in that 
state have in their harangues openly derided; yet that 
belief was always more cherished, than the contrary. 

And by these, and such other institutions, they ob- 
tained in order to their end, which was the peace of the 
commonwealth, that the common people in their misfor- 
tunes, laying the fault on neglect, or error in their 
ceremonies, or on their own disobedience to the laws, 
were the less apt to mutiny against their governors ; and 
being entertained with the pomp, and pastime of festi- 
vals, and public games, made in honour of the gods, need- 
ed nothing else but bread to keep them from discontent, 
murmuring, and commotion against the state. And 
therefore the Romans, that had conquered the greatest 
part of the then known world, made no scruple of toler- 
ating any religion whatsoever in the city of Rome itself ; 
unless it had something in it, that could not consist with 
their civil government ; nor do we read, that any religion 
was there forbidden, but that of the Jews; who, being 
tlit peculiar kingdom of God, thought it unlawful to ac- 
knowledge subjection to any mortal king or state what- 
soever. And thus you see how the religion of the Gen- 
tiles was a part of their policy. 

But where God himself, by supernatural revelation, 
planted religion; there he also made to himself a peculiar 



OF RELIGION 227 

kingdom: and gave laws, not only of behaviour towards 
himself, but also towards one another; and thereby in 
the kingdom of God, the policy, and laws civil, are a part 
of religion; and therefore the distinction of temporal, 
and spiritual domination, hath there no place. It is true, 
that God is king of all the earth : yet may he be king of 
a peculiar, and chosen nation. For there is no more in- 
congruity therein, than that he that hath the general 
command of the whole army, should have withal a pe- 
culiar regiment, or company of his own. God is king of 
all the earth by his power: but of his chosen people, he 
is king by covenant. But to speak more largely of the 
kingdom of God, both by nature, and covenant, I have 
in the following discourse assigned another place (chap- 
ter xxxv ). 

From the propagation of religion, it is not hard to 
understand the causes of the resolution of the same into 
its first seeds, or principles ; which are only an opinion of 
a deity, and powers invisible, and supernatural; that can 
never be so abolished out of human nature, but that new 
religions may again be made to spring out of them, by the 
culture of such men, as for such purpose are in repu- 
tation. 

For seeing all formed religion, is founded at first, 
upon the faith which a multitude hath in some one per- 
son, whom they believe not only to be a wise man, and to 
labour to procure their happiness, but also to be a holy 
man, to whom God himself vouchsafeth to declare his 
will supernaturally ; it followeth necessarily, when they 
that have the government of religion, shall come to have 
either the wisdom of those men, their sincerity, or their 
love suspected; or when they shall be unable to show any 
probable token of divine revelation ; that the religion 
which they desire to uphold, must be suspected likewise ; 



228 LEVIATHAN 

and, without the fear of the civil sword, contradicted 
and rejected. 

That which taketh away the reputation of wisdom, 
m him that formeth a religion, or addeth to it when it is 
already formed, is the enjoining of a belief of contradic- 
tories: for both parts of a contradiction cannot possibly 
be true: and therefore to enjoin the belief of them, is 
an argument of ignorance; which detects the author in 
that; and discredits him in all things else he shall pro- 
pound as from revelation supernatural: which revelation 
a man may indeed have of many things above, but of 
nothing against natural reason. 

That which taketh away the reputation of sincerity, 
is the doing or saying of such things, as appear to be 
signs, that what they require other men to believe, is 
not believed by themselves ; all which doings, or sayings 
arc therefore called scandalous, because they be stumb- 
ling blocks, that make men to fall in the way of religion ; 
as injustice, cruelty, profaneness, avarice, and luxury. 
For who can believe, that he that doth ordinarily such 
actions as proceed from any of these roots, believeth there 
is any such invisible power to be feared, as he affright- 
em other men withal, for lesser faults? 

That which taketh away the reputation of love, is 
the being detected of private ends : as when the belief 
they require of others, conduceth or seemeth to conduce 
to the acquiring of dominion, riches, dignity, or secure 
pleasure, to themselves only, or specially. For that which 
men reap benefit by to themselves, they are thought to 
do for their own sakes, and not for love of others. 

Lastly, the testimony that men can render of divine 
calling, can be no other, than the operation of miracles; 
or true prophecy, which also is a miracle ; or extraor- 
dinary felicity. And therefore, to those points of religion, 



OF RELIGION 229 

which have been received from them that did such mir- 
acles ; those that are added by such, as approve not their 
calling by some miracle, obtain no greater belief, than 
what the custom and laws of the places, in which they 
be educated, have wrought into them. For as in natural 
things, men of judgment require natural signs, and ar- 
guments; so in supernatural things, they require signs 
supernatural, which are miracles, before they consent in- 
wardly, and from their hearts. 

All which causes of the weakening of men's faith, 
do manifestly appear in the examples following. First, 
we have the example of the children of Israel : who 
when Moses, that had approved his calling to them b> 
miracles, and by the happy conduct of them out of Egypt, 
was absent but forty days, revolted from the worship of 
the true God, recommended to them by him ; and setting 
up (Exod. xxxiii. 1, 2) a golden calf for their god, re- 
lapsed into the idolatry of the Egyptians ; from whom 
they had been so lately delivered. And again, aftc 
Moses, Aaron, Joshua, and that generation which had 
seen the great works of God in Israel, (Judges n. 11) 
were dead ; another generation arose, and served Baal, 
So that miracles failing, faith also failed. 

Again, when the sons of Samuel, (1 Sam. viii. 3) be- 
ing constituted by their father judges in Bersabee, re- 
ceived bribes, and judged unjustly, the people of Israel 
refused any more to have God to be thei*- king, in other 
manner than he was king of other people; and there- 
fore cried out to Samuel, to chose them a king after the 
manner of the nations. So that justice failing, faith also 
failed : insomuch, as they deposed their God, from reign- 
ing over them. 

And whereas in the planting of Christian religion, 
the oracles ceased in all parts of the Roman empire, and 



230 LEVIATHAN 

the number of Christians increased wonderfully every 
day, and in every place, by the preaching of the Apos- 
tles, and Evangelists ; a great part of that success, may 
reasonably be attributed, to the contempt, into which the 
priests of the Gentiles of that time, had brought them- 
selves, by their uncleanness, avarice, and juggling be- 
tween princes. Also the religion of the church of Rome, 
was partly, for the same cause abolished in England, 
and many other parts of Christendom ; insomuch, as the 
failing of virtue in the pastors, maketh faith fail in the 
people : and partly from bringing of the philosophy, and 
doctrine of Aristotle into religion, by the Schoolmen ; 
from whence there arose so many contradictions, and 
absurdities, as brought the clergy into a reputation both 
of ignorance, and of fraudulent intention ; and inclined 
people to revolt from them, either against the will of their 
own princes, as in France and Holland; or with their 
will, as in England. 

Lastly, amongst the points by the church of Rome 
declared necessary for salvation, there be so many, mani- 
festly to the advantage of the Pope, and of his spiritual 
subjects, residing in the territories of other Christian 
princes, that were it not for the mutual emulation of 
those princes, they might without war, or trouble, ex- 
clude all foreign authority, as easily as it has been ex- 
cluded in England. For who is there that does not see, to 
whose benefit it conduceth, to have it believed, that a king 
hath not his authority from Christ, unless a bishop crown 
him? That a king, if he be a priest, cannot marry? That 
whether a prince be born in lawful marriage, or not, must 
be judged by authority from Rome? That subjects may 
be freed from their allegiance, if by the court of Rome, 
the king be judged an heretic? That a king, as Chil- 
peric of France, may be deposed by a pope, as Pope Zach- 



LEVIATHAN 



231 



ary, for no cause; and his kingdom given to one of his 
subjects? That the clergy and regulars, in what country 
soever, shall be exempt from the jurisdiction of their king 
in cases criminal? Or who does not see, to whose profit 
redound the fees of private masses, and vales of purga- 
tory ; with other signs of private interest, enough to mor- 
tify the most lively faith, if, as I said, the civil magis- 
trate, and custom did not more sustain it, than any opin- 
ion they have of the sanctity, wisdom, or probity of their 
teachers? So that I may attribute all the changes of re- 
ligion in the world, to one and the same cause ; and that 
is, unpleasing priests ; and those not only amongst Catho- 
lics, but even in that church that hath presumed most of 
reformation. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

OF THE NATURAL CONDITION OF MANKIND AS CONCERN- 
ING THEIR FELICITY, AND MISERY. 

Nature hath made men so equal, in the faculties of 
the body, and mind; as that though there be found one 
man sometimes manifestly stronger in body, or of quick- 
er mind than another ; yet when all is reckoned together, 
the difference between man, and man, is not so consider- 
able, as that one man can thereupon claim to himself any 
benefit, to which another may not pretend, as well as he. 
For as to the strength of body, the weakest has strength 
enough to kill the strongest, either by secret machination, 
or by confederacy with others, that are in the same 
danger with himself. 

And as to the faculties of the mind, setting aside the 
arts grounded upon words, and especially that skill of 
proceeding upon general, and infallible rules, called sci- 
ence; which very few have, and but in few things; as 
being not a native faculty, born with us; nor attained, 
as prudence, while we look after somewhat else, I find 
yet a greater equality amongst men, than that of strength. 
For prudence, is but experience ; which equal time, equal- 
ly bestows on all men, in those things they equally apply 
themselves unto. That which may perhaps make such 
equality incredible, is but a vain conceit of one's own wis- 
dom, which almost all men think they have in a greater 
degree, than the vulgar; that is, than all men but them- 
selves, and a few others, whom by fame, or for concur- 
ring with themselves, they approve. For such is the na- 
ture of men, that howsoever they may acknowledge many 
others to be more witty, or more eloquent, or more learn- 
ed; yet they will hardly believe there be many so wise 



NATURAL CONDITION OF MANKIND 233 

as themselves ; for they see their own wit at hand, and 
other men's at a distance. But this proveth rather that 
men are in that point equal, than unequal. For there is 
not ordinarily a greater sign of the equal distribution of 
any thing, than that every man is contented with his 
share. 

From this equality of ability, ariseth equality of hope 
in the attaining of our ends. And therefore if any two 
men desire the same thing, which nevertheless they can- 
not both enjoy, they become enemies; and in the way to 
their end, which is principally their own conservation, 
and sometimes their delectation only, endeavour to des- 
troy, or subdue one another. And from hence it comes 
to pass, that where an invader hath no more to fear, than 
another man's single power; if one plant, sow, build, or 
possess a convenient seat, others may probably be ex- 
pected to come prepared with forces united, to dispossess, 
and deprive him, not only of the fruit of his labour, but 
also of his life, or liberty. And the invader again is in 
the like danger of another. 

And from this diffidence of one another, there is no 
way for any man to secure himself, so reasonable, as 
anticipation ; that is, by force, or wiles, to master the per- 
sons of all men he can, so long, till he see no other 
power great enough to endanger him: and this is no 
more than his own conservation req^ireth, and is gener- 
ally allowed. Also because there be some, that taking 
pleasure in contemplating their own power in the acts of 
conquest, which they pursue farther than their security 
requires ; if others, that otherwise would be glad to be 
at ease within modest bounds, should not by invasion in- 
crease their power, they would not be able, long time, 
by standing only on their defence, to subsist. And by 
consequence, such augmentation of dominion over men 



234 LEVIATHAN 

being necessary to a man's conservation, it ought to be al- 
lowed him. 1 

Again, men have no pleasure, but on the contrary a 
great deal of grief, in keeping company, where there is 
no power able to over-awe them all. For every man look- 
eth that his companion should value him, at the same rate 
he sets upon himself : and upon all signs of contempt, or 
undervaluing, naturally endeavours, as far as he dares, 
(which amongst them that have no common power to 
keep them in quiet, is far enough to make them destroy 
each other), to extort a greater value from his contem- 
ners, by damage; and from others, by the example. 

So that in the nature of man, we find three principal 
causes of quarrel. First, competition; second, diffi- 
dence; thirdly, glory. 

The first, maketh men invade for gain; the second, 
for safety; and the third, for reputation. The first use 
violence, to make themselves masters of other men's per- 
sons, wives, children, and cattle; the second, to defend 
them ; the third, for trifles, as a word, a smile, a different 



Compare Human Nature, (M. IV, 85). "Seeing this 
right of protecting ourselves by our own discretion and force, 
proceedeth from danger, and that danger from the equality be 
tween men's forces, much more reason is there, that a man pre- 
vent such equality before the danger cometh, and before the ne- 
cessity of battle. A man therefore that hath another man in his 
power to rule or govern, to do good to, or harm, hath right, 
by the advantage of this his present power, to take caution at his 
pleasure, for his security against that other in time to come. 
He therefore that hath already subdued his adversary, or gotten 
into his power any other, that either by infancy, or weakness, 
is unable to resist him, by right of nature may take the best cau- 
tion, that such infant, or such feeble and subdued person can 
give him, of being ruled and governed by him for the time to 
come. For seeing we intend always our own safety and preser- 
vation, we manifestly contradict that our intention, if we will- 
ingly dismiss such a one, and suffer him at once to gather 
strength and be our enemy. Out of which may also be collected, 
that irresistible might, in the state of nature, is right." 



NATURAL CONDITION OF MANKIND 235 

opinion, and any other sign of undervalue, either direct 
in their persons, or by reflection in their kindred, their 
friends, their nation, their profession, or their name. 

Hereby it is manifest, that during the time men live 
without a common power to keep them all in awe, they 
are in that condition which is called war ; and such a war, 
as is of every man, against every man. For war, consist- 
ed not in battle only, or the act of fighting ; but in a tract 
of time, wherein the will to contend by battle is sufficient- 
ly known : and therefore the notion of time, is to be con- 
sidered in the nature of war; as it is in the nature of 
weather. For as the nature of foul weather, lieth not 
in a shower or two of rain ; but in an inclination thereto 
of many days together : so the nature of war, consisteth 
not in actual fighting ; but in the known disposition there- 
to, during all the time there is no assurance to the con- 
trary. All other time is peace. 

Whatsoever therefore is consequent to a time of 
war, where every man is enemy to every man ; the same 
is consequent to the time, wherein men live without other 
security, than what their own strength, and their own in- 
vention shall furnish them withal. In such condition, 
there is no place for industry; because the fruit thereof 
is uncertain : and consequently no culture of the earth ; 
no navigation, nor use of the commodities that may be 
imported by sea; no commodious building; no instru- 
ments of moving, and removing, such things as require 
much force ; no knowledge of the face of the earth ; no 
account of *ime ; no arts ; no letters ; no society ; and 
which is worst of all, continual fear, and danger of 
violent death ; and the life of man, solitary, poor, nasty, 
brutish, and short. 

It may seem strange to some man, that has not well 
weighed these things ; that nature should thus dissociate, 



236 LEVIATHAN 

and render men apt to invade, and destroy one another : 
and he may therefore, not trusting to this inference, 
made from the passions, desire perhaps to have the same 
confirmed by experience. Let him therefore consider 
with himself, when taking a journey, he arms himself, 
and seeks to go well accompanied ; when going to sleep, 
he locks his doors; when even in his house he locks his 
chests ; and this when he knows there be laws, and public 
officers, armed, to revenge all injuries shall be done him; 
what opinion he has of his fellow-subjects, when he 
rides armed; of his fellow citizens, when he locks his 
doors; and of his children, and servants, when he locks 
his chests. Does he not there as much accuse mankind 
by his actions, as I do by my words ? But neither of us 
accuse man's nature in it. The desires, and other pas- 
sions of man, are in themselves no sin. No more are the 
actions, that proceed from those passions, till they know 
a law that forbids them : which till laws be made they can- 
not know : nor can any law be made, till they have agreed 
upon the person that shall make it. 2 






2 Compare Leviathan, (M. Ill, 277). "A SIN, is not on- 
ly a transgression of a law, but also any contempt of the legis- 
lator. For such contempt, is a breach of all his laws at once. 
And therefore may consist, not only in the commission of a fact, 
or in speaking of words by the laws forbidden, or in the omis- 
sion of what the law commandeth, but also in the intention, or 
purpose to transgress. For the purpose to break the law, is 
some degree of contempt of him, to whom it belongeth to see it 
executed. To be delighted in the imagination only, of being 
possessed of another man's goods, servants, or wife, without any 
intention to take them from him by force or fraud, is no breach 
of the law, that saith, Thou shalt not covet: nor is the pleasure 
a man may have in imagining or dreaming of the death of him, 
from whose life he expecteth nothing but damage, and dis- 
pleasure, a sin ; but the resolving to put some act in execution, 
that tendeth thereto. For to be pleased in the fiction of that, 
which would please a man if it were real, is a passion so adher- 
ent to the nature both of man, and every other living creature, 
as to make it a sin, were to make sin of being a man. The con- 



NATURAL CONDITION OF MANKIND 237 

It may peradventure be thought, there was never such 
a time, nor condition of war as this ; and I believe it was 
never generally so, over all the world : but there are many 
places, where they live so now. For the savage people in 
many places of America, except the government of small 
families, the concord whereof dependeth on natural lust, 
have no government at all; and live at this day in that 
brutish manner, as I said before. Howsoever, it may be 
perceived what manner of life there would be, where 
there were no common power to fear, by the manner of 
life, which men that have formerly lived under a peace- 
ful government, use to degenerate into, in a civil war. 



sideration of this, has made me think them too severe, both to 
themselves, and others, that maintain, that the first motions of 
the mind, though checked with the fear of God, be sins. But I 
confess it is safer to err on that hand, than on the other. A 
crime, is a sin, consisting in the committing, by deed or word, 
of that which the law forbiddeth, or the omission of what it hath 
commanded. So that every crime is a sin; but not every sin a 
crime. To intend to steal, or kill, is a sin, though it never ap- 
pear in word, or fact: for God that seeth the thoughts of man, 
can lay it to his charge: but till it appear by something done, 
or said, by which the intention may be argued by a human 
judge, it hath not the name of crime. * * * * From this 
relation of sin to the law, and of crime to the civil law, may be 
inferred, first, that where law ceaseth, sin ceaseth. But be- 
cause the law of nature is eternal, violation of covenants, ingrati- 
tude, arrogance, and all facts contrary to any moral virtue, can 
never cease to be sin. Secondly, that the civil law ceasing, 
crimes cease: for there being no other law remaining, but that 
of nature, there is no place for accusation; every man being his 
own judge, and accused only by his own conscience, and cleared 
by the uprightness of his own intention. When therefore his in- 
tention is right, his fact is no sin : if otherwise, his fact is sin ; 
but not crime. Thirdly, that when the sovereign power ceaseth, 
crime also ceaseth ; for where there is no such power, there is 
no protection to be had from the law ; and therefore every one 
may protect himself by his own power: for no man in the in- 
stitution of sovereign power can be supposed to give away the 
right of preserving his own body; for the safety whereof all 
sovereignty was ordained. But this is to be understood only 
of those, that have not themselves contributed to the taking 
away of the power that protected them ; for that was a crime 



238 LEVIATHAN 

But though there had never been any time, wherein' 
particular men were in a condition of war one against 
another ; yet in all times, kings, and persons of sovereign 
authority, because of their independency, are in continual 
jealousies, and in the state and posture of gladiators; 
having their weapons pointing, and their eyes fixed on 
one another ; that is, their forts, garrisons, and guns up- 
on the frontiers of their kingdoms; and continual spies 
upon their neighbours ; which is a posture of war. But be- 
cause they uphold thereby, the industry of their subjects ; 
there does not follow from it, that misery, which accom- 
panies the liberty of particular men. 

To this war of every man, against every man, this 
also is consequent; that nothing can be unjust. The 
notions of right and wrong, justice and injustice have 
there no place. Where there is no common power, there 
is no law : where no law, no injustice. Force, and fraud, 
are in war the two cardinal virtues. Justice, and injus- 
tice are none of the faculties neither of the body, nor mind. 
If they were, they might be in a man that were alone in 
the world, as well as his senses, and passions. They are 



from the beginning." Also Philosophical Rudiments, (M. II, 
152). "That is my sin indeed, which committing I do believe 
to be my sin ; but what I believe to be another man's sin, I may 
sometimes do that without any sin of mine. For if I be command- 
ed to do that which is a sin in him who commands me, if I do it, 
and he that commands me be by right lord over me, I sin not. For 
if I wage war at the commandment of my prince, conceiving the 
war to be unjustly undertaken, I do not therefore do unjust- 
ly; but rather if I refuse to do it, arrogating to myself the 
knowledge of what is just and unjust, which pertains only to 
my prince. They who observe not this distinction, will fall into 
a necessity of sinning, as oft as anything is commanded them 
which either is, or seems to be unlawful to them : for 
if they obey, they sin against their conscience; and if they 
obey not, against right. If they sin against their conscience, 
they declare that they fear not the pains of the world to come; 
if they sin against right, they do, as much as in them lies, 
abolish human society and the civil life of the present world." 



NATURAL CONDITION OF MANKIND 239 

qualities, that relate to men in society, not in solitude. 3 
It is consequent also to the same condition, that there be 
no propriety, no dominion, no mine and thine distinct; 
but only that to be every man's, that he can get ; and for 
so long, as he can keep it. 4 And thus much for the ill 
condition, which man by mere nature is actually placed 
in ; though with a possibility to come out of it, consisting 
partly in the passions, partly in his reason. 

The passions that incline men to peace, are fear of 
death ; desire of such things as are necessary to commo- 
dious living; and a hope by their industry to obtain 
them. And reason suggesteth convenient articles of 
peace, upon which men may be drawn to agreement. 
These articles, are they, which otherwise are called the 
Laws of Nature : whereof I shall speak more particularly, 
in the two following chapters. 

PARALLEL CHAPTER FROM 

PHILOSOPHICAL RUDIMENTS CONCERNING 

GOVERNMENT. 

CHAPTER I. 

OF THE STATE OF MEN WITHOUT CIVIL SOCIETY. 

The faculties of human nature may be reduced untc 
four kinds ; bodily strength, experience, reason, passion. 



3 See above p. 147 n. 3. and compare below Chapter XV. 

4 Compare Philosophical Rudiments, (M. II, 84 n.)- "What 
is objected by some, that the propriety of goods, even before 
the constitution of cities, was found in fathers of families, 
that objection is vain; because I have already declared, that a 
family is a little city. For the sons of a family have a propri- 
ety of their goods granted them by their father, distinguished in- 
deed from the rest of the sons of the same family, but not from 
the propriety of the father himself. But the fathers of divers 
families, who are subject neither to any common father nor lord, 
have a common right in all things." 



240 LEVIATHAN 

Taking the beginning of this following doctrine from 
these, we will declare, in the first place, what manner of 
inclinations men who are endued with these faculties bear 
towards each other, and whether, and by what faculty 
they are born apt for society, and to preserve themselves 
against mutual violence; then proceeding, we will show 
what advice was necessary to be taken for this business, 
and what are the conditions of society, or of human 
peace; that is to say, (changing the words only), what 
are the fundamental laws of nature. 

2. The greatest part of those men who have written 
aught concerning commonwealths, either suppose, or re- 
quire us or beg of us to believe, that man is a creature 
born fit* for society. The Greeks call him Z&ov izoXirtx6v\ 
and on this foundation they so build up the doctrine cf 
civil society, as if for the preservation of peace, and the 
government of mankind, there were nothing else neces- 
sary than that men should agree to make certain cove- 
nants and conditions together, which themselves should 
then call laws. Which axiom, though received by most, is 
yet certainly false ; and an error proceeding from our too 
slight contemplation of human nature. For they who shall 
more narrowly look into the causes for which men come 



*Born fit.] Since we now see actually a constituted society 
among men, and none living out of it, since we discern all de- 
sirous of congress and mutual correspondence, it may seem a 
wonderful kind of stupidity, to lay in the very threshold of this 
doctrine such a stumbling block before the reader, as to deny 
man to be born fit for society. Therefore I must more plainly say, 
that it is true indeed, that to man by nature, or as man, that is, 
as soon as he is born, solitude is an enemy; for infants have 
need of others to help them to live, and those of riper years to 
help them to live well. Wherefore I deny not that men (even 
nature compelling) desire to come together. But civil societies 
are not mere meetings, but bonds, to the making whereof faith 
and compacts are necessary; the virtue whereof to children and 
fools, and the profit whereof to those who have not yet tasted 



NATURAL CONDITION OF MANKIND 241, 

together, and delight in each other's company, shall easily 
find that this happens not because naturally it could 
happen no otherwise, but by accident. For if by nature 
one man should love another, that is, as man, there could 
no reason be returned why every man should not equally 
love every man, as being equally man ; or why he should 
rather frequent those, whose society affords him honour 
or profit. We do not therefore by nature seek society for 
its own sake, but that we may receive some honour or 
profit from it; these we desire primarily, that second- 
arily. How, by what advice, men do meet, will be best 
known by observing those things which they do when 
they are met. For if they meet for traffic, it is plain 
every man regards not his fellow, but his business; if 
to discharge some office, a certain market-friendship is 
begotten, which hath more of jealousy in it than true love, 
and whence factions sometimes may arise, but good will 
never ; if for pleasure and recreation of mind, every man 
is wont to please himself most with those things which 
stir up laughter, whence he may, according to the nature 
of that which is ridiculous, by comparison of another 
man's defects and infirmities, pass the more current in his 



the miseries which accompany its defects, is altogether un- 
known ; whence it happens, that those, because they know not 
what society is, cannot enter into it; these, because ignorant of 
the benefit it brings, care not for it. Manifest therefore it is, 
that all men, because they are born in infancy, are born unapt 
for society. Many also, perhaps most men, either through de- 
fect of mind or want of education, remain unfit during the whole 
course of their lives ; yet have they, infants as well as those of 
riper years, a human nature. Wherefore man is made fit for 
society not by nature, but by education. Furthermore, although 
man were born in such a condition as to desire it, it follows not, 
that he therefore were born fit to enter into it. For it is one 
thing to desire, another to be in capacity fit for what we desire ; 
for even they, who through their pride, will not stoop to equal 
conditions, without which there can be no society, do yet desire 
it. 



242 LEVIATHAN 

own opinion. And although this be sometimes innocent 
and without offence, yet it is manifest they are not so 
much delighted with the society, as their own vain glory. 
But for the most part, in these kinds of meeting we 
wound the absent; their whole life, sayings, actions are 
examined, judged, condemned. Nay, it is very rare but 
some present receive a fling as soon as they part; so as 
his reason was not ill, who was wont always at parting to 
go out last. And these are indeed the true delights of so- 
ciety, unto which we are carried by nature, that is, by 
those passions which are incident to all creatures, until 
either by sad experience or good precepts it so fall out, 
which in many it never happens, that the appetite of pres^ 
ent matters be dulled with the memory of things past: 
without which the discourse of most quick and nimble 
men on this subject, is but cold and hungry. 

But if it so happen, that being met they pass their 
time in relating some stories, and one of them begins to 
tell one which concerns himself; instantly every one of 
the rest most greedily desires to speak of himself too; 
if one relates some wonder, the rest will tell you mira- 
cles, if they have them ; if not, they will feign them. 
Lastly, that I may say somewhat of them who pretend to 
be wiser than others : if they meet to talk of philosophy, 
look, how many men, so many would be esteemed mas- 
ters, or else they not only love not their fellows, but even 
persecute them with hatred. So clear is it by experience 
to all men who a little more narrowly consider human 
affairs, that all free congress ariseth either from mutual 
poverty, or from vain glory, whence the parties met en- 
deavour to carry with them either some benefit, or to 
leave behind them that same edSozijieiv, some esteem 
an honour with those, with whom they have been con- 
versant. The same is also collected by reason out of the 



NATURAL CONDITION OF MANKIND 243 

definitions themselves of will, good, honour, profitable. 
For when we voluntarily contract society, in all manner 
of society we look after the object of the will, that is, 
that which everyone of those who gather together, pro- 
pounds to himself for good. Now, whatsoever seems 
good, is pleasant, and relates either to the senses, 
or the mind. But all the mind's pleasure is eith- 
er glory, (or to have a good opinion of one's 
self), or refers to glory in the end; the rest are sen- 
sual, or conducing to sensuality, which may be all 
comprehended under the word conveniences. All society 
therefore is either for gain, or for glory; that is, not so 
much for love of our fellows, as for the love of our- 
selves. But no society can be great or lasting, which 
begins from vain glory. Because that glory is like hon- 
our ; if all men have it no man hath it, for they consist in 
comparison and precellence. Neither doth the society 
of others advance any whit the cause of my glorying in 
myself ; for every man must account himself, such as he 
can make himself without the help of others. But though 
the benefits of this life may be much furthered by mu- 
tual help ; since yet those may be better attained to by do- 
minion than by the society of others, I hope no body will 
doubt, but that men would much more greedily be car- 
ried by nature, if all fear were removed, to obtain do- 
minion, than to gain society. We must therefore re- 
solve, that the original of all great and lasting societies 
consisted not in the mutual good will men had towards 
each other, but in the mutual fear* they had of each 
other. 



*The mutual fear.] It is objected: it is so improbable that 
men should grow into civil societies out of fear, that if they had 
been afraid, they would not have endured each other's looks. 
They presume, I believe, that to fear is nothing else than to be 



244 LEVIATHAN 

3. The cause of mutual fear consists partly in the na- 
tural equality of men, partly in their mutual will of hurt- 
ing; whence it comes to pass, that we can neither expect 
from others, nor promise to ourselves the least security. 
For if we look on men full-grown, and consider how brit- 
tle the frame of our human body is, which perishing, 
all its strength, vigour, and wisdom itself perisheth 
with it; and how easy a matter it is, even for the weak- 
est man to kill the strongest; there is no reason why 
any man, trusting to his own strength, should conceive 
himself made by nature above others. They are equals, 
who can do equal things one against the other ; but they 
who can do the greatest things, namely, kill, can do 
equal things. All men therefore among themselves are 
by nature equal; the inequality we now discern, hath its 
spring from the civil law. 

4. All men in the state of nature have a desire and 
will to hurt, but not proceeding from the same cause, 
neither equally to be condemned. For one man, according 
to that natural equality which is among us, permits as 
much to others as he assumes to himself ; which is an ar- 



affrighted. I comprehend in this word fear, a certain foresight 
of future evil; neither do I conceive flight the sole property of 
fear, but to distrust, suspect, take heed, provide so that they 
may not fear, is also incident to the fearful. They who go to 
sleep, shut their doors ; they who travel, carry their swords with 
them, because they fear thieves. Kingdoms guard their coasts 
and frontiers with forts and castles ; cities are compact with 
walls; and all forfearof neighbouring kingdomsand towns. Even 
the strongest armies, and most accomplished for fight, yet some- 
times parley for peace, as fearing each other's power, and lest 
they might be overcome. It is through fear that men secure 
themselves by flight indeed, and in corners, if they think they 
canot escape otherwise; but for the most part, by arms and 
defensive weapons ; whence it happens, that daring to come 
forth they know each other's spirits. But then if they fight, 
civil society ariseth from the victory; if they agree, from their 
agreement. 



NATURAL CONDITION OF MANKIND 245 

gument of a temperate man, and one that rightly values 
his power. Another, supposing himself above others, will 
have a license to do what he lists, and challenges respect 
and lionour, as due to him before others; which is an 
argument of a fiery spirit. This man's will to hurt 
ariseth from vain glory, and the false esteem he hath of 
his own strength ; the other's from the necessity of de- 
fending himself, his liberty, and his goods, against this 
man's violence. 

5. Furthermore, since the combat of wits is the fiercest, 
the greatest discords which are, must necessarily arise 
from this contention. For in this case it is not only 
odious to contend against, but also not to consent. For 
not to approve of what a man saith, is no less than tacit- 
ly to accuse him of an error in that thing which he 
speaketh : as in very many things to dissent, is as much 
as if you accounted him a fool whom you dissent from. 
Which may appear hence, that there are no wars so 
sharply waged as between sects of the same religion, 
and factions of the same commonweal, where the con- 
testation is either concerning doctrines or politic pru- 
dence. And since all the pleasure and jollity of the mind 
consists in this, even to get some, with whom comparing, 
it may find somewhat wherein to triumph and vaunt it- 
self; it is impossible but men must declare sometimes 
some mutual scorn and contempt, either by laughter, 
or by words, or by gesture, or some sign or other ; than 
which there is no greater vexation of mind, and than 
from which there cannot possibly arise a greater desire 
to do hurt. 

6. But the most frequent reason why men desire to 
hurt each other, ariseth hence, that many men at the same 
time have an appetite to the same thing; which yet very 
often they can neither enjoy in common, nor yet di- 



246 LEVIATHAN 

vide it; whence it follows that the strongest must have 
it, and who is strongest must be decided by the sword. 

7. Among so many dangers therefore, as the natural 
lusts of men do daily threaten each other withal, to have 
a care of one's self is so far from being a matter scornful- 
ly to be looked upon, that one has neither the power nor 
wish to have done otherwise. For every man is desir- 
ous of what is good for him, and shuns what is evil, 
but chiefly the chiefest of natural evils, which is death; 
and this he doth by a certain impulsion of nature, no 
less than that whereby a stone moves downward. It is 
therefore neither absurd nor reprehensible, neither 
against the dictates of true reason, for a man to use all 
his endeavours to preserve and defend his body and the 
members thereof from death and sorrows. But that 
which is not contrary to right reason, that all men ac- 
count to be done justly, and with right. Neither by the 
word right is anything else signified, than that liberty 
which every man hath to make use of his natural fac- 
ulties according to right reason. Therefore the first 
foundation of natural right is this, that every man as 
much as in him lies endeavour to protect his life and 
members. 

8. But because it is in vain for a man to have a right 
to the end, if the right to the necessary means be denied 
him, it follows, that since every man hath a right to pre- 
serve himself, he must also be allowed a right to use 
all the means, and do all the actions, without which he 
cannot preserve himself. 

9. Now whether the means which he is about to use, 
and the action he is performing, be necessary to the 
preservation of his life and members or not, he himself, 
by the right of nature, must be judge. For if it be con- 
trary to right reason that I should judge of mine own 



NATURAL CONDITION OF MANKIND 24/ 

peril, say, that another man is judge. Why now, be- 
cause he judgeth of what concerns me, by the same reas- 
on, because we are equal by nature, will I judge also of 
things which do belong to him. Therefore it agrees 
with right reason, that is, it is the right of nature that 
I judge of his opinion, that is, whether it conduce to 
my preservation or not. 

10. Nature hath given to every one a right to all; that 
is, it was lawful for every man, in the bare state of 
nature,* or before such time as men had engaged them- 
selves by any covenants or bonds, to do what he would, 
and against whom he thought fit, and to possess, use, 
and enjoy all what he would, or could get. Now be- 



*/>/ the bare state of nature.] This is thus to be under- 
stood: what any man does in the bare state of nature, is inju- 
rious to no man ; not that in such a state he cannot offend God, 
or break the laws of nature; for injustice against men presup- 
poseth human laws, such as in the state of nature there are none. 
Now the truth of this proposition thus conceived, is sufficiently 
demonstrated to the mindful reader in the articles immediately 
foregoing; but because in certain cases the difficulty of the con- 
clusion makes us forget the premises, I will contract this argu- 
ment, and make it most evident to a single view. Every man 
hath right to protect himself, as appears by the seventh article. 
The same man therefore hath a right to use all the means which 
necessarily conduce to this end, by the eighth article. But those 
are the necessary means which he shall judge to be such, by the 
ninth article. He therefore hath a right to make use of, and to 
do all whatsoever he shall judge requisite for his preservation; 
wherefore by the judgment of him that doth it, the thing done is 
either right or wrong, and therefore right. True it is therefore 
in the bare state of nature, &c. But if any man pretend somewhat 
to tend necessarily to his preservation, which yet he himself doth 
not confidently believe so, he may offend against the laws of 
nature, as in the third chapter of this book is more at large de- 
clared. It hath been objected by some: if a son kill his father, 
doth he him no injury? I have answered, that a son cannot be 
understood to be aV any time in the state of nature, as being 
under the power and command of them to whom he owes his 
protection as soon as ever he is born, namely, either his father's 
or his mother's, or him that nourished him ; as is demonstrated 
in the ninth chapter. 



2, 4 8 LEVIATHAN 

cause whatsoever a man would, it therefore seems good 
to him because he wills it, and either it really . doth, or 
at least seems to him to contribute towards his preser- 
vation, (but we have already allowed him to be judge, 
in the foregoing article, whether it doth or not, insomuch 
as we are to hold all for necessary whatsoever he shall 
esteem so), and by the 7th article it appears that by 
the right of nature those things may be done, and must 
be had, which necessarily conduce to the protection of 
life and members, it follows, that in the state of nature, 
to have all, and do all, is lawful for all. And this is that 
which is meant by that common saying, nature hath giv- 
en all to all. From whence we understand likewise, 
that in the state of nature profit is the measure of right. 

11. But it was the least benefit for men thus to have a 
common right to all things. For the effects of this right 
are the same, almost, as if there had been no right at all. 
For although any man might say of every thing, this is 
mine, yet could he not enjoy it, by reason of his neigh- 
bour, who having equal right and equal power, would 
pretend the same thing to be his. 

12. If now to this natural proclivity of men, to hurt 
each other, which they derive from their passions, but 
chiefly from a vain esteem of themselves, you add, the 
right of all to all, wherewith one by right invades, the 
other by right resists, and whence arise perpetual jeal- 
ousies and suspicions on all hands, and how hard a thing 
it is to provide against an enemy invading us with an 
intention to oppress and ruin, though he come with a 
small number, and no great provision; it cannot be de- 
nied but that the natural state of men, before they en- 
tered into society, was a mere war, and that not simply, 
but a war of all men against all men. For what is war, 
but that same time in which the will of contesting by 



NATURAL CONDITION OF MANKIND 249 

force is fully declared, either by words or deeds? The 
time remaining is termed peace. 

13. But it is easily judged how disagreeable a thing to 
the preservation either of mankind, or of each single 
man, a perpetual war is. But it is perpetual in its own 
nature; because in regard of the equality of those that 
strive, it cannot be ended by victory. For in this state 
the conqueror is subject to so much danger, as it were 
to be accounted a miracle, if any, even the most strong, 
should close up his life with many years and .old age. 
They of America are examples hereof, even in this pres- 
ent age : other nations have been in former ages ; which 
now indeed are become civil and flourishing, but were 
then few, fierce, short-lived, poor, nasty, and deprived 
of all that pleasure and beauty of life, which peace and 
society are wont to bring with them. Whosoever there- 
fore holds, that it had been best to have continued in 
that state in which all things were lawful for all men, 
he contradicts himself. For every man by natural ne- 
cessity desires that which is good for him : nor is there 
any that esteems a war of all against all, which necessar- 
ily adheres to such a state, to be good for him. And so it 
happens, that through fear of each other we think it fit 
to rid ourselves of this condition, and to get some fel- 
lows ; that if there needs must be war, it may not yet be 
against all men, nor without some helps. 

14. Fellows are gotten either by constraint, or by con- 
sent; by constraint, when after fight the conqueror 
makes the conquered serve him, either through fear of 
death, or by laying fetters on him: by consent, when 
men enter into society to help each other, both parties 
consenting without any constraint. But the conqueror 
may by right compel the conquered, or the strongest the 
weaker, (as a man in health may one that is sick, or he 



z$o LEVIATHAN 

that is of riper years a child), unless he will choose to 
die, to give caution of his future obedience. For since 
the right of protecting ourselves according to our own 
wills, proceeded from our danger, and our danger from 
our equality, it is more consonant to reason, and more 
certain for our conservation, using the present advantage 
to secure ourselves by taking caution, than when they 
shall be full grown and strong, and got out of our power, 
to endeavour to recover that power again by doubtful 
fight. And on the other side, nothing can be thought more 
absurd, than by discharging whom you already have 
weak in your power, to make him at once both an enemy 
and a strong one. From whence we may understand 
likewise as a corollary in the natural state of men, that 
a sure and irresistible power confers the right of do- 
minion and ruling over those who cannot resist; inso- 
much, as the right of all things that can be done, ad- 
heres essentially and immediately unto this omnipotence 
hence arising. 

15. Yet cannot men expect any lasting preservation, 
continuing thus in the state of nature, that is, of war, 
by reason of that equality of power, and other human fac- 
ulties they are endued withal. Wherefore to seek peace, 
where there is any hopes of obtaining it, and where there 
is none, to enquire out for auxiliaries of war, is the dic- 
tate of right reason, that is, the law of nature; as shall 
be showed in the next chapter. 



CHAPTER XIV. 

OF THE FIRST AND SECOND NATURAL LAWS, AND OF 
CONTRACTS. 

The right of nature, which writers commonly call jus 
naturale, is the liberty each man hath, to use his own 
power, as he will himself, for the preservation of his own 
nature; that is to say, of his own life; and consequently, 
of doing anything, which in his own judgment, and 
reason, he shall conceive to be the aptest means there- 
unto. 1 

By liberty, is understood, according to the proper 
signification of the word, the absence of external impedi- 
ments : which impediments, may oft take away part of a 
man's power to do what he would ; but cannot hinder him 
from using the power left him, according as his judg- 
ment, and reason shall dictate to him. 2 

A law of nature, lex naturalis, is a precept or gen- 
eral rule, found out by reason, by which a man is for- 
bidden to do that, which is destructive of his life, or taketh 
away the means of preserving the same ; and to omit that, 
by which he thinketh it may be best preserved. For 
though they that speak of this subject, use to confound 



Compare Human Nature, (M. IV, 83). 'And forasmuch 
as necessity of nature maketh men to will and desire bonum 
sibi, that which is good for themselves, and to avoid that which 
is hurtful; but most of all, the terrible enemy of nature, death, 
from whom we expect both the loss of all power, and also the 
greatest of bodily pains in the losing; it is not against reason, 
that a man doth all he can to preserve his own body and limbs 
both from death and pain. And that which is not against reason, 
men call right, or just, or blameless liberty of using our own 
natural power and ability. It is therefore a right of nature, thac 
every man may preserve his own life and limbs, with all the 
power he hath." 

2 Compare above p. 159, n. 5. 



252 LEVIATHAN 

jus, and lex, right and law: yet they ought to be dis«* 
tinguished; because right, consisteth in liberty to do, 
or to forbear; whereas law, determineth, and bindeth to 
one of them : so that law, and right, differ as much, as 
obligation, and liberty ; which in one and the same matter 
are inconsistent. 3 

And because the condition of man, as hath been de- 
clared in the precedent chapter, is a condition of war of 
every one against every one; in which case every one 
is governed by his own reason; and there is nothing he 
can make use of,that may not be a help unto him, in pre- 
serving his life against his enemies; it followeth, that in 
such a condition, every man has a right to every thing; 
even to one another's body. And therefore, as long as 
this natural right of every man to every thing endureth, 
there can be no security to any man, how strong or wise 
soever he be, of living out the time, which nature ordin- 
arily alloweth men to live. And consequently it is a pre- 
cept, or general rule of reason, that every man, ought 
to endeavour peace, as far as he has hope of obtaining it; 
and when he cannot obtain it, that he may seek, and use, 



"Compare Philosophical Rdiments, (M.) II. 186). "Now 
natural liberty is a right not constituted, but allowed by the 
laws. For the laws being removed, our liberty is absolute. 
This is first restrained by the natural and divine laws; the res- 
idue is bounded by the civil law; and what remains, may again 
be restrained by the constitutions of particular towns and so 
cieties. There is great difference therefore between law and 
right. For law is a fetter, right is freedom; and they differ like 
contraries." Also De Corpore Politico, (M. IV, 87). "Reas- 
on is no less of the nature of man than passion, and is the same 
in all men, because all men agree in the will to be directed and 
governed in the way to that which they desire to attain, namely, 
their own good, which is the work of reason: there can there- 
fore be no other law of nature than reason, nor no other pre- 
cepts of natural law, than those which declare unto us the ways 
of peace, where the same may be obtained, and of defence where 
it may not." 



NATURAL LAWS 253 

all helps, and advantages of war. The first branch of 
which rule, containeth the first, and fundamental law 
of nature; which is, to seek peace, and follow it. The 
second, the sum of the right of nature; which is, by 
all means we can, to defend ourselves. 

From this fundamental law of nature, by which men 
are commanded to endeavour peace, is derived this sec- 
ond law; that a man be willing, when others are so too, 
as far-forth, as for peace, and defence of himself he shall 
think it necessary, to lay down this right to all things; 
and be contented with so much liberty against other men, 
as he would allow other men against himself. For as 
long as every man holdeth this right, of doing any thing 
he liketh; so long are all men in the condition of war. 
But if other men will not lay down their right, as well as 
he; then there is no reason for anyone, to divest himself 
of his : for that were to expose himself to prey, which no 
man .is bound to, rather than to dispose himself to peace. 
This is that law of the Gospel; whatsoever you require 
that others should do to you, that do ye to them. And 
that law of all men, quod tibi fieri non vis, alteri ne feceris. 

To lay down a man's right to any thing, is to divest 
himself of the liberty, of hindering another of the benefit 
of his own right to the same. For he chat renounced], or 
passeth away his right, giveth not to any other man a 
right which he had not before ; because there is nothing to 
which e^ery man had not right by nature: but only 
standeth out of his way, that he may enjoy his own orig- 
inal right, without hindrance from him ; not without hin- 
drance from another. So that the effect which redound- 
eth to one man, by another man's defect of right, is but 
so much diminution of impediments to the use of his 
own right original. 

Right is laid aside, either by simply renouncing it; 



254 LEVIATHAN 

or by transferring it to another. By simply renouncing ; 
when he cares not to whom the benefit thereof redound- 
cth. By transferring; when he intendeth the benefit 
thereof to some cetain person, or persons. And when a 
man hath in either manner abandoned, or granted away 
his right ; then is he said to be obliged, or bound, 4 not 
to hinder those, to whom such right is granted, or aband- 
oned, from the benefit of it : and that he ought, and it is 
his duty, not to make void that voluntary act of his own : 
and that such hindrance is injustice, and injury, as 
being sine jure ;tht right being before renounced, or trans- 
ferred. So that injury, or injustice, in the controversies 
of the world, is somewhat like to that, which in the dis- 
putations of scholars is called absurdity. For as it is there 
called an absurdity, to contradict what one maintained in 
the beginning: so in the world, it is called injustice, and 
injury, voluntarily to undo that, which from the beginning 
he had voluntarialy done. The way by which a man either 
simply renounceth, or transferreth his right, is a declar- 
ation, or signification, by some voluntary and sufficient 
sign, or signs, that he doth so renounce, or transfer; or 
hath so renounced, or transferred the same, to him that 
accepteth it. And these signs are either words only, or 
actions only; or, as it happeneth most often, both words, 
and actions. And the same are the bonds, by which men 
are bound, and obliged: bonds, that have their strength, 
not from their own nature, for nothing is more easily 
broken than a man's word, but from fear of some evil 
consequence upon the rupture. 

Whensoever a man transferreth his right, or renounc- 
eth it; it is either in consideration of some right recip- 



*Compare Philosophical Rudiments, (M. II. no). "All obli- 
gation derives from contract." (M. II. 183). "To follow what 
is prescribed by law, is duty; what«by counsel, is free will." 



NATURAL LAWS 255 

rocally transferred to himself; or for some other good 
he hopeth for thereby. For it is a voluntary act : and of 
the voluntary acts of every man, the object is some 
good to himself. And therefore there be some rights, 
which no man can be understood by any words, or other 
signs, to have abandoned, or transferred. As first a 
man cannot lay down the right of resisting them, that 
assault him by force, to take away his life; because he 
cannot be understood to aim thereby, at any good to 
himself. The same may be said of wounds, and chains, 
and imprisonment; both because there is no benefit con- 
sequent to such patience; as there is to the patience of 
suffering another to be wounded, or imprisoned : as also 
because a man cannot tell, when he seeth men proceed 
against him by violence, whether they intend his death 
or not. And lastly the motive, and end for which this 
renouncing, and transferring of right is introduced, is 
nothing else but the security of a man's person, in his 
life, and in the means of so preserving life, as not to be 
Weary of it. And therefore if a man by words, or other 
signs, seem to despoil himself of the end, for which 
those signs were intended; he is not to be understood as 
if he meant it, or that it was his will; but that he was 
ignorant of how such words and actions were to be in- 
terpreted. 5 



5 Comparebelowp.262. Also Leviathan, (M. III. 297). "In the 
making of a commonwealth, every man giveth away the right 
of defending another ; but not of defending himself. Also he 
obligeth himself, to assist him that hath the sovereignty, in the 
punishing of another; but of himself not. But to covenant to 
assist the sovereign, in doing hurt to another, unless he that 
so covenanteth have a right to do it himself, is not to give him 
a right to punish. It is manifest therefore that the right 
which the commonwealth, that is, he, or they that represent 
it, hath to punish, is not grounded on any concession, or gift of 
the subjects. But I have also showed formerly, that before the 
institution of commonwealth, every man had a right to every 



256 LEVIATHAN 

The mutual transferring of right, is that which men 

Call CONTRACT. 

There is difference between transferring of right to 
the thing; and transferring, or tradition, that is delivery 
of the thing itself. For the thing may be delivered to- 
gether with the translation of the right; as in buying 
and selling with ready-money; or exchange of goods, or 
lands : and it may be delivered some time after. 

Again, one of the contractors, may deliver the thing 
contracted for on his part, and leave the other to perform 
his part at some determinate time after, and in the mean 
time be trusted ; and then the contract on his part, is 
called pact, or covenant: or both parts may contract 
now, to perform hereafter: in which cases, he that is to 
perform in time to come, being trusted, his performance 
is called keeping of promise, or faith ; and the failing of 
performance, if it be voluntary, violation of faith* 

When the transferring of right, is not mutual: but 
one of the parties transferreth, in hope to gain thereby 
friendship, or service from another, or from his friends; 
Dr in hope to gain the reputation of charity, or magnan- 



thing, and to do whatsoever he thought necessary to his own 
preservation ; subduing, hurting, or killing any man in order 
thereunto. And this is the foundation of that right of punishing, 
which is exercised in every commonwealth. For the subjects 
did not give the sovereign that right ; but only in laying down 
theirs, strengthened him to use his own, as he should think fit, 
for the preservation of them all : so that it was not given, but 
left to him, and to him only; and (excepting the limits set 
him by natural law) as entire, as in the condition of mere nature, 
and of war of every one against his neighbor." 

"Compare De Corpore Politico, (M. IV. 221). "So that 
the difference between a covenant and a law, standeth thus : in 
simple covenant, the action to be done, or not done, is first limit- 
ed and made known, and then followeth the promise to do or not 
do ; but in a law, the obligation to do or not to do, precedeth, 
and the declaration what is to be done, or not done, followeth 
after." 



NATURAL LAWS 257 

imity; or to deliver his mind from the pain of com- 
passion ; or in hope of reward in heaven ; this is not con- 
tract, but gift, free-gift, grace: which words signify 
one and the same thing. 

Signs of contract, are either express, or by infer- 
ence. Express, are words spoken with understanding 
of what they signify: and such words are either of the 
time present, or past; as,. / give, I grant, I have given, 
I have granted, I will that this be yours: or of the fu- 
ture; as, / zvill give, I zvill grant: which words of the 
future are called promise. 

Signs by inference, are sometimes the consequence 
of words; sometimes the consequence of silence; some- 
times the consequence of actions; sometimes the conse- 
quence of forbearing an action : and generally a sign by 
inference, of any contract, is whatsoever sufficiently ar- 
gues the will of the contractor. 

Words alone, if they be of the time to come, and 
contain a bare promise, are an insufficient sign of a free- 
gift, and therefore not obligatory. For if they be of 
the time to come, as to-morrow I will give, they are a 
sign I have not given yet, and consequently that my 
right is not transferred, but remaineth till I transfer it 
by some other act But if the words be of the time 
present, or past, as, / have given, or, do give to be de- 
livered to-morrow, then is my to-morrow's right given 
away to-day; and that "by the virtue of the words, 
though there were no other argument of my will. And 
there is a great difference in the signification of these 
words, volo hoc turn esse eras, and eras dabo; that is, 
between I zvill that this be thine to-morrozv, and, I zvill 
give it thee to-morrow ; for the word / will, in the former 
manner of speech, signifies an act of the will present : 
but in the latter, it signifies a promise of an act of the 



258 LEVIATHAN 

will to come: and therefore the former words, being 
of the present, transfer a future right; the latter, that 
be of the future, transfer nothing. But if there be other 
signs of the will to transfer a right, besides words; 
then, though the gift be free, yet may the right be un- 
derstood to pass by words of the future : as if a man pro- 
pound a prize to him that comes first to the end of a 
race, the gift is free; and though the words be of the 
future, yet the right passeth : for if he would not have 
his words so be understood, he should not have let them 
run. 

In contracts, the right passeth, not only where the 
words are of the time present, or past, but also where 
they are of the future: because all contract is mutual 
translation, or change of right; and therefore he that 
promiseth only, because he hath already received the 
benefit for which he promiseth, is to be understood as 
if he intended the right should pass: for unless he had 
been content to have his words so understood, the other 
would not have performed his part first. And for that 
cause, in buying, and selling, and other acts of contract, 
a promise is equivalent to a covenant; and therefore 
obligatory. 

He that performeth first in the case of a contract, 
is said to merit that which he is to receive by the per- 
formance of the other ; and he hath it as due. Also when 
a prize is propounded to many, which is to be given to 
him only that winneth ; or money is thrown amongst 
many, to be enjoyed by them that catch it; though 
this be a free gift; yet so to win, or so to catch, is to 
merit, and to have it as due. For the right is trans- 
ferred in the propounding of the prize, and in throwing 
down the money; though it be not determined to whom, 
but bv the event of the contention. But there is between 



NATURAL LAWS 259 

these two sorts of merit, this difference, that in con- 
tract, I merit by virtue of my own power, and the con- 
tractor's need ; but in this case of free gift, I am en- 
abled to merit only by the benignity of the giver: in 
contract, I merit at the contractor's hand that he should 
depart with his right; in this case of gift, I merit not 
that the giver should part with his right; but that when 
he has parted with it, it should be mine, rather than 
another's And this I think to be the meaning of that 
distinction of the Schools, between meritum congrui, and 
merit urn condigni. For God Almighty, having promised 
Paradise to those men, hoodwinked with carnal desires, 
that can walk through this world according to the pre- 
cepts, and limits prescribed b\ him; they say, he that 
.shall so walk, shall merit Paradise ex congruo. But be- 
cause no man can demand a right to it, by his own right- 
eousness, or any other power in himself, but by the 
free grace ot God only ; they say, no man can merit Par 
adise ex condigno, This I say, I think is the meanin*, 
of that distinction; but because disputers do not agree 
upon the signification of their own terms of art, longei 
than it serves their turn; I will not affirm any thing of 
their meaning: only this I say; when a gift is given in- 
definitely, as a prize to be contended for, he that win- 
neth meriteth, and may claim the prize as due. 

If a covenant be made, wherein neither of the parties 
perform presently, but trust one another ; in the condition 
of mere nature, which is a condition of war of every 
man against every man, upon any reasonable suspicion, 
it is void: but if there be a common power set over 
them both, with right and force sufficient to compel per- 
formance, it is not void. For he that performeth first, 
has no assurance the other will perform after; because 
the bonds of words are too weak to bridle men's ambition, 



260 LEVIATHAN 

avarice, anger, and other passions, without the fear of 
some coercive power; which in the condition of mere na- 
ture, where all men are equal, and judges of the justness 
of their own fears, cannot possibly be supposed. And 
therefore he which performeth first, does but betray him- 
self to his enemy ; contrary to the right, he can never aban- 
don, of defending his life, and means of living. 

But in a civil estate, where there is a power set up 
to constrain those that would otherwise violate their faith, 
that fear is no more reasonable; and for that cause, he 
which by the covenant is to perform first, is obliged so to 
do. 

The cause of fear, which maketh such a covenant 
invalid, must be always something arising after the cov- 
enant made; as some new fact, or other sign of the 
will not to perform : else it cannot make the covenant void. 
For that which could not hinder a man from promising, 
ought not to be admitted as a hindrance of performing. 

He that transferreth any right, transferreth the means 
of enjoying it, as far as lieth in his power. As he that sell- 
eth land, is understood to transfer the herbage, and what- 
soever grows upon it : nor can he that sells a mill turn 
away the stream that drives it. And they that give to a 
man the right of government in sovereignty, are under- 
stood to give him the right of levying money to maintain 
soldiers ; and of appointing magistrates for the administra- 
tion of justice. 

To make covenants with brute beasts, is impossible; 
because not understanding our speech, they understand 
not, nor accept of any translation of right ; nor can trans- 
late any right to another: and without mutual accepta- 
tion, there is no covenant. 7 



'Compare Leviathan, (M. Ill, 257). "Over natural fools, 



NATURAL LAWS 261 

To make covenant with God, is impossible, but by 
mediation of such as God speaketh to, either by revelation 
supernatural, or by his lieutenants that govern under him, 
and in his name : for otherwise we know not whether our 
covenants be accepted, or not. And therefore they that 
vow anything contrary to any law of nature, vow in 
vain ; as being a thing unjust to pay such vow. And if it 
be a thing commanded by the law of nature, it is not the 
vow, but the law that binds them. 

The matter, or subject of a covenant, is always some- 
thing that falleth under deliberation; for to covenant, is 
an act of the will ; that is to say, an act, and the last act 
of deliberation ; and is therefore always understood to be 
something to come; and which is judged possible for him 
that covenanteth, to perform. 

And therefore, to promise that which is known to be 
impossible, is no covenant. But if that prove impossible 
afterwards, which before was thought possible, the coven- 
ant is valid, and bindeth, though not to the thing itself, 
yet to the value; or, if that also be impossible, to the un- 
feigned endeavour of performing as much as is possible : 
for to more no man can be obliged. 

Men are freed of their covenants two ways; by per- 
forming; or by being forgiven. For performance, is the 
natural end of obligation ; and forgiveness, the restitution 



children, or madmen, there is no law, no more than over brute 
beasts; nor are they capable of the title of just, or unjust; 
because they had never power to make any covenant, or to 
understand the consequences thereof; and consequently never 
took upon them to authorize the actions of any sovereign, as 
they must do that make to themselves a commonwealth. And 
as those from whom nature or accident hath taken away the 
notice of all laws in general ; so also every man, from whom 
any accident, not proceeding from his own default, hath taken 
away the means to take notice of any particular law, is excused, 
if he observe it not: and to speak properly, that law is no law 
to him." 



262 LEVIATHAN 

of liberty ; as being a retransferring of that right, in which 
the obligation consisted. 

Covenants entered into by fear, in the condition of 
mere nature, are obligatory. For example, if I covenant 
to pay a ransom, or service for my life, to an enemy ; I 
am bound by it : for it is a contract, wherein one receiveth 
the benefit of life ; the other is to receive money, or service 
for it; and consequently, where no other law, as in the 
condition of mere nature, forbiddeth the performance, the 
covenant is valid. Therefore prisoners of war, if trusted 
with the payment of their ransom, are obliged to pay it : 
and if a weaker prince, make a disadvantageous peace 
with a stronger, for fear ; he is bound to keep it ; unless, 
as hath been said before, there ariseth some new, and just 
cause of fear, to renew the war. And even in common- 
wealths, if I be forced to redeem myself from a thief 
by promising him money, I am bound to pay it, till the 
civil law discharge me. For whatsoever I may lawfully 
do without obligation, the same I may lawfully covenant to 
do through fear : and what I lawfully covenant, I cannot 
lawfully break. 

A former covenant, makes void a later. For a man 
that hath passed away his right to one man to-day, 
hath it not to pass to-morrow to another: and therefore 
the later promise passeth no right, but is null. 

A covenant not to defend myself from force, by force, 
is always void. For, as I have showed before, no man 
can transfer, or lay down his right to save himself from 
death, wounds, imprisonment, the avoiding whereof is 
the only end of laying down any right; and therefore 
the promise of not resisting force, in no covenant trans- 
ferred any right ; nor is obliging. For though a man may 
covenant thus, unless I do so, or so, kill me; he cannot 
covenant thus, unless I do so, or so, I will not resist you, 



NATURAL LAWS 263 

when you come to kill me. For man by nature chooseth 
the lesser evil, which is danger of death in resisting; 
rather than the greater, which is certain and present death 
in not resisting. And this is granted to be true by all men, 
in that they lead criminals to execution, and prison, with 
armed men, notwithstanding that such criminals have con- 
sented to the law, by which they are condemned. 

A covenant to accuse oneself, without assurance of 
pardon, is likewise invalid. For in the condition of nature, 
where every man is judge, there is no place for accusa- 
tion : and in the civil state, the accusation is followed 
with punishment ; which being force, a man is not obliged 
not to resist. The same is also true, of the accusation 
of those, by whose condemnation a man falls into misery ; 
as of a father, wife, or benefactor. For the testimony of 
such an accuser, if it be not willingly given, is presumed 
to be corrupted by nature; and therefore not to be re- 
ceived : and where a man's testimony is not to be credited, 
he is not bound to give it. Also accusations upon torture, 
are not to be reputed as testimonies. For torture is to be 
used but as means of conjecture, and light, in the further 
examination, and search of truth : and what is in that case 
confessed, tendeth to the ease of him that is tortured; 
not to the informing of the torturers : and therefore ought 
not to have the credit of a sufficient testimony : for whether 
he deliver himself by true, or false accusation, he does it 
by the right of preserving his own life. 

The force of words, being, as I have formerly noted, 
too weak to hold men to the performance of their cov- 
enants; there are in man's nature, but two imaginable 
helps to strengthen it. And those are either a fear of 
the consequence of breaking their word; or a glory, or 
pride in appearing not to need to break it. This latter is a 
generosity too rarely found to be presumed on, especially 



264 LEVIATHAN 

in the pursuers of wealth, command, or sensual pleasure ; 
which are the greatest part of mankind. The passion to 
be reckoned upon, is fear ; whereof there be two very gen- 
eral objects: one, the power of spirits invisible; the other, 
the power of those men they shall therein offend. Of these 
two, though the former be the greater power, yet the fear 
of the latter is commonly the greater fear. The fear of 
the former is in every man, his own religion : which hath 
place in the nature of man before civil society. The 
latter hath not so ; at least not place enough, to keep men 
to their promises ; because in the condition of mere nature, 
the inequality of power is not discerned, but by the event 
of battle. So that before the time of civil society, or in the 
interruption thereof by war, there is nothing can strength- 
en a covenant of peace agreed on, against the temptations 
of avarice, ambition, lust, or other strong desire, but 
the fear of that invisible power, which they every one wor- 
ship as God ; and fear as a revenger of their perfidy. All 
therefore that can be done between two men not subject 
to civil power, is to put one another to swear by the God 
he feareth : which swearing, or oath, is a form of speech, 
added to a promise; by which he that promiseth, signiHeth, 
that unless he perform, he renounceth the mercy of his 
God, or calleth to him for vengeance on himself. Such was 
the heathen form, Let Jupiter kill me else, as I kill this 
beast. So is our form, / shall do thus, and thus, so help 
me God. And this, with the rites and ceremonies, which 
every one useth in his own religion, that the fear of break- 
ing faith might be the greater. 

By this it appears, that an oath taken according to any 
other form, or rite, than his, that sweareth, is in vain ; 
and no oath : and that there is no swearing by any thing 
which the swearer thinks not God. For though men have 
sometimes used to swear by their kings, for fear, or flat- 



NATURAL LAWS a6$ 

tery ; yet they would have it thereby understood, they at- 
tributed to them divine honour. And that swearing un- 
necessarily by God, is but prophaning of his name : and 
swearing by other things, as men do in common discourse, 
is not swearing, but an impious custom, gotten by too 
much vehemence of talking. 

It appears also, that the oath adds nothing to the 
obligation. For a covenant, if lawful, binds in the sight of 
God, without the oath, as much as with it: if unlawful, 
bindeth not at all ; though it be confirmed with an oath. 

PARALLEL CHAPTER FROM 

PHILOSOPHICAL RUDIMENTS CONCERNING 

GOVERNMENT. 

CHAPTER II. 

OF THE LAW OF NATURE CONCERNING CONTRACTS. 

i. All authors agree not concerning the definition of the 
natural law, who notwithstanding do very often make 
use of this term in their writings. The method there- 
fore wherein we begin from definitions and exclusion of 
all equivocation, is only proper to them who leave no 
place for contrary disputes. For the rest, if any man say 
that somewhat is done against the law of nature, one 
proves it hence; because it was done against the gen- 
eral agreement of all the most wise and learned nations : 
but this declares not who shall be the judge of the wis- 
dom and learning of all nations. Another hence, that 
it was done against the general consent of all mankind; 
which definition is by no means to be admitted. For then 
it were impossible for any but children and fools, to of- 
fend against such a law; for sure, under the notion of 
mankind, they comprehend all men actually endued with 



266: LEVIATHAN 

reason. These therefore either do naught against it, 
or if they do aught, it is without their own consent, and 
therefore ought to be excused. But to receive the laws 
of nature from the consents of them who oftener break 
than observe them, is in truth unreasonable. Besides, 
men condemn the same things in others, which they ap- 
prove in themselves ; on the other side, they publicly con> 
mend what they privately condemn; and they deliver 
their opinions more by hearsay, than any speculation of 
their own ; and they accord more through hatred of some 
object, through fear, hope, love, or some other pertur- 
bation of mind, than true reason. And therefore it 
comes to pass, that whole bodies of people often do those 
things with the greatest unanimity and earnestness, 
which those writers most willingly acknowledge to be 
against the law of nature. But since all do grant, that is 
done by right, which is not done against reason, we 
ought to judge those actions only wrong, which are re- 
pugnant to right reason, that is, which contradict some 
certain truth collected by right reasoning from true prin- 
ciples. But that which is done wrong, we say it is done 
against some law. Therefore true reason is a certain law; 
which, since it is no less a part of human nature, than 
any other faculty or affection of the mind, is also termed 
natural. Therefore the law of nature, that I may define 
it, is the dictate of right reason,* conversant about those 



* Right reason.] By right reason in the natural state of men, 
I understand not, as many do, an infallible faculty, but the act 
of reasoning, that is, the peculiar and true ratiocination of every 
man concerning those actions of his, which may either redound 
to the damage or benefit of his neighbbours. I call it peculiar, 
because although in a civil government the reason of the supreme, 
that is, the civil law, is to be received by each single subject for 
the right; yet being without this civil government, in which 
state no man can know right reason from false, but by comparing 
it with his own, every man's own reason is to be accounted, not 



NATURAL LAWS 267 

things which are either to be done or omitted for the 
constant preservation of life and members, as much as 
in us lies. 

2. But the first and fundamental law of nature is, that 
peace is to be sought after, where it may be found; and 
where not, there to provide ourselves for helps of war. 
For we showed in the last article of the foregoing chap- 
ter, that this precept is the dictate of right reason; but 
that the dictates of right reason, are natural laws, that 
hath been newly proved above. But this is the first, 
because the rest are derived from this, and they direct 
the ways either to peace or self-defence. 

3. But one of the natural laws derived from this 
fundamental one is this: that the right of all men to all 
things ought not to be retained; but that some certain 
rights ought to be transferred or relnquished. For if 
every one should retain his right to all things, it must 
necessarily follow, that some by right might invade, and 
others, by the same right, might defend themselves 
against them. For every man by natural necessity en- 
deavours to defend his body, and the things which he 
judgeth necessary towards the protection of his body. 
Therefore war would follow. He therefore acts against 
the reason of peace, that is, against the law of nature, 
whosoever he be, that doth not part with his right to all 
things. 



only the rule of his own actions, which are done at his own peril, 
but also for the measure of another man's reason, in such things 
as do concern him. I call it true, that is, concluding from true 
principles rightly framed, because that the whole breach of the 
laws of nature consists in the false reasoning, or rather folly of 
those men, who see not those duties they are necessarily to per- 
form towards others in order to their own conservation. But 
the^ principles of right reasoning about such like duties, are those 
which are explained in the second, third, fourth, fifth, sixth, and 
seventh articles of the first chapter. 



268 LEVIATHAN 

4. But he is said to part with his right, who either ab- 
solutely renounceth it, or conveys it to another. He ab- 
solutely renounceth it, who by some sufficient sign or 
meet tokens declares, that he is willing that it shall never 
be lawful for him to do that again, which before by right 
he might have done. But he conveys it to another, who 
by some sufficient sign or meet tokens declares to that 
other, that he is willing it should be unlawful for him 
to resist him, in going about to do somewhat in the per- 
formance whereof he might before with right have re- 
sisted him. But that the conveyance of right consists 
merely in not resisting, is understood by this, that before 
it was conveyed, he to whom he conveyed it, had even 
then also a right to all ; whence he could not give any 
new right; but the resisting right he had before he 
gave it, by reason whereof the other could not freely en- 
joy his rights, is utterly abolished. Whosoever therefore 
acquires some right in the natural state of men, he only 
procures himself security and freedom from just mo- 
lestation in the enjoyment of his primitive right. As for 
example, if any man shall sell or give away a farm, he 
utterly deprives himself only from all right to this farm; 
but he does not so others also. 

5. But in the conveyance of right, the will is requisite 
not only of him that conveys, but of him also that accepts 
it. If either be wanting, the right remains. For if I 
would have given what was mine to one who refused to 
accept of it, I have not therefore either simply renounced 
my right, or conveyed it to any man. For the cause 
which moved me to part with it to this man, was in him 
only, not in others too. 

6. But if there be no other token extant of our will 
either to quit or convey our right, but only words ; those 
words must either relate to the present or time past; for 



NATURAL LAWS 269 

if they be of the future only, they convey nothing. For 
example, he that speaks thus of the time to come, / will 
give to-morrow, declares openly that yet he hath not given 
it. So that all this day his right remains, and abides 
to-morrow too, unless in the interim he actually bestows 
it : for what is mine, remains mine till I have parted with 
it. But if I shall speak of the time present, suppose thus ; 
/ do give or have given you this to be received to-mor- 
row: by these words is signified that I have already given 
it, and that his right to receive it to-morrow is conveyed 
to him by me to-day. 

7. ^Nevertheless, although words alone are not suffi- 
cient tokens to declare the will ; if yet to words relating to 
the future there shall some other signs be added, they may 
become as valid as if they had been spoken of the pres- 
ent. If therefore, as by reason of those other signs, it 
appear that he that speaks of the future, intends those 
words should be effectual toward the perfect transferring 
of his right, they ought to be valid. For the conveyance 
of right depends not on words, but, as hath been instanced 
in the fourth article, on the declaration of the will. 

8. If any man convey some part of his right to anoth- 
er, and doth not this for some certain benefit received, or 
for some compact, a conveyance in this kind is called a 
gift or free donation. But in free donation, those words 
only oblige us, which signify the present or the time 
past; for if they respect the future, they oblige not as 
words, for the reason given in the foregoing article. 
It must needs therefore be, that the obligation arise from 
some other tokens of the will. But, because whatsoever 
is voluntarily done, is done for some good to him that 
wills it; there can no other token be assigned of the 
will to give it, except some benefit either already received, 
or to be acquired. But it is supposed that no such benefit 



270 LEVIATHAN 

is acquired, nor any compact in being ; for if so, it would 
cease to be a free gift. It remains therefore, that a 
mutual good turn without agreement be expected. But 
no sign can be given, that he, who used future words 
toward him who was in no sort engaged to return a ben- 
efit, should desire to have his words so understood as 
to oblige himself thereby. Nor is it suitable to reason, 
that those who are easily inclined to do well to others, 
should be obliged by every promise, testifying their pres- 
ent good affection. And for this cause, a promiser in 
this kind must be understood to have time to deliberate, 
and power to change that affection, as well as he to whom 
he made that promise, may alter his desert. But he that 
deliberates, is so far forth free, nor can be said to have 
already given. But if he promise often, and yet give 
seldom, he ought to be condemned of levity, and be 
called not a donor, but doson. 

9. But the act of two, or more, mutually conveying 
their rights, is called a contract. But in every contract, 
either both parties instantly perform what they contract 
for, insomuch as there is no trust had from either to 
other; or the one performs, the other is trusted; or neith- 
er perform. Where both parties perform presently, there 
the contract is ended as soon as it is performed. But 
where there is credit given, either to one or both, there 
the party trusted promiseth after-performance; and this 
kind of promise is called a covenant. 

10. But the covenant made by the party trusted with 
him who hath already performed, although the promise 
be made by words pointing at the future, doth no less 
transfer the right of future time, than if it had been made 
by words signifying the present or time past. For the oth- 
er's performance is a most manifest sign that he so un- 
derstood the speech of him whom he trusted, as that he 



NATURAL LAWS 271 

would certainly make performance also at the appointed 
time; and by this sign the party trusted knew himself 
to be thus understood; which because he hindered not, 
was an evident token of his will to perform. The prom- 
ises therefore which are made for some benefit received, 
which are also covenants, are tokens of the will ; that is, 
as in the foregoing section hath been declared, of the 
last act of deliberating, whereby the liberty of non-per- 
formance is abolished, and by consequence are obliga- 
tory. For where liberty ceaseth, there beginneth obliga- 
tion. 

11. But the covenants which are made in contract of 
mutual trust, neither party performing out of hand, if 
there arise* a just suspicion in either of them, are in the 
state of nature invalid. For he that first performs, by 
reason of the wicked disposition of the greatest part of 
men studying their own advantage either by right or 
wrong, exposeth himself to the perverse will of him with 
whom he hath contracted. For it suits not with reason, 
that any man should perform first, if it be not likely that 
the other will make good his promise after; which, 
whether it be probable or not, he that doubts it must be 
judge of, as hath been showed in the foregoing chapter 
in the ninth article. Thus, I say, things stand in the state 
of nature. But in a civil state, when there is a power 
which can compel both parties, he that hath contracted 
to perform first, must first perform ; because, that since 
the other may be compelled, the cause which made him 
fear the other's non-performance, ceaseth. 



* Arise.] For, except there appear some new cause of fear, 
either from somewhat done, or some other token of the will not 
to perform from the other part, it cannot be judged to be a just 
fear; for the cause which was not sufficient to keep him from 
making compact, must not suffice to authorize the breach of it, 
being made. 



272 LEVIATHAN 

12. But from this reason, that in all free gifts and 
compacts there is an acceptance of the conveyance of 
right required : it follows that no man can compact with 
him who doth not declare his acceptance. And therefore 
we cannot compact with beasts, neither can we give or take 
from them any manner of right, by reason of their want 
of speech and understanding. Neither can any man cov- 
enant with God, or be obliged to him by vow ; except so 
far forth as it appears to him by Holy Scriptures, that he 
hath substituted certain men who have authority to accept 
of such-like vows and covenants, as being in God's stead. 

13. Those therefore do vow in vain, who are in the 
state of nature, where they are not tied by any civil law, 
except, by most certain revelation, the will of God to 
accept their vow or pact, be made known to them. For 
if what they vow be contrary to the law of nature, they 
are not tied by their vow ; for no man is tied to perform 
an unlawful act. But if what is vowed, be commanded by 
some law of nature, it is not their vow, but the law 
itself which ties them. But if he were free, before his 
vow, either to do it or not do it, his liberty remains; 
because that the openly declared will of the obligor is 
requisite to make an obligation by vow; which, in the 
case propounded, is supposed not to be. Now I call him 
the obligor, to whom any one is tied ; and the obliged, 
him who is tied. 

14. Covenants are made of such things only as fall un- 
der our deliberation. For it can be no covenant without 
the will of the contractor. But the will is the last act of 
him who deliberates ; wherefore they only concern things 
possible and to come. No man, therefore, by his compact 
obligeth himself to an impossibility. But yet, though we 
often covenant to do such things as then seem possible 
when we promised them, which yet afterward appear to 



NATURAL LAWS 273 

be impossible, are we not therefore freed from all obliga- 
tion. The reason whereof is, that he who promiseth 
a future, in certainty receives a present benefit, on con- 
dition that he return another for it. For his will, who 
performs the present benefit, hath simply before it for its 
object a certain good, equally valuable with the thing 
promised; but the thing itself not simply, but with con- 
dition if it could be done. But if it should so happen, that 
even this should prove impossible, why then he must 
perform as much as he can. Covenants, therefore, oblige 
us not to perform just the thing itself covenanted for, 
but our utmost endeavour; for this only is, the things 
themselves are not in our power. 

15. We are freed from covenants two ways, either by 
performing, or by being forgiven. By performing, for 
beyond that we obliged not ourselves. By being forgiven, 
because he whom we obliged ourselves to, by forgiving is 
conceived to return us that right which we passed over 
to him. For forgiving implies giving, that is, by the 
fourth article of this chapter, a conveyance of right to him 
to whom the gift is made. 

16. It is a usual question, whether compacts extorted 
from us through fear, do oblige or not. For example, 
if, to redeem my life from the power of a robber, I 
promise to pay him 100/. next day, and that I will do no 
act whereby to apprehend and bring him to justice: 
whether I am tied to keep promise or not. But though 
such a promise must sometimes be judged to be of no 
effect, yet it is not to be accounted so because it proceed- 
ed from fear. For then it would follow, that those prom- 
ises which reduced men to a civil life, and by which laws 
were made, might likewise be of none effect; (for it pro- 
ceeds from fear of mutual slaughter, that one man sub- 
mits himself to the dominion of another) ; and he should 



274 LEVIATHAN 

play the fool finely, who should trust his captive cov- 
enanting with the price of his redemption. It holds uni- 
versally true, that promises do oblige, when there is some 
benefit received, and when the promise, and the thing 
promised, be lawful. But it is lawful, for the redemption 
of my life, both to promise and to give what I will of 
mine own to any man, even to a thief. We are obliged, 
therefore, by promises proceeding from fear, except the 
civil law forbid them ; by virtue whereof, that which is 
promised becomes unlawful. 

17. Whosoever shall contract with one to do or omit 
somewhat, and shall after covenant the contrary with an- 
other, he maketh not the former, but the latter contract 
unlawful. For he hath no longer right to do or to omit 
aught, who by former contracts hath conveyed it to an- 
other. Wherefore he can convey no right by latter con- 
tracts, and what is promised is promised without right. 
He is therefore tied only to his first contract, to break 
which is unlawful. 

18. No man is obliged by any contracts whatsoever not 
to resist him who shall offer to kill, wound, or any other 
way hurt his body. For there is in every man a certain 
high degree of fear, through which he apprehends that 
evil which is done to him to be the greatest ; and there- 
fore by natural necessity he shuns it all he can, and it is 
supposed he can do no otherwise. When a man is ar- 
rived to this degree of fear, we cannot expect but he will 
provide for himself either by flight or fight. Since there- 
fore no man is tied to impossibilities, they who are 
threatened either with death, (which is the greatest evil 
to nature), or wounds, or some other bodily 
hurts, and are not stout enough to bear them, 
are not obliged to endure them. Furthermore, he 
that is tied by contract is trusted; for faith 



NATURAL LAWS 275 

only is the bond of contracts ; but they who are 
brought to punishment, either capital or more gentle, arc 
fettered or strongly guarded ; which is a most certain sign 
that they seemed not sufficiently bound from non-resist- 
ance by their contracts. It is one thing, if I promise thus : 
if I do it not at the day appointed, kill me. Another 
thing, if thus : if I do it not, though you should offer to 
kill me, I will not resist. All men, if need be, contract 
the first way, and there is need sometimes. This second 
way, none; neither is it ever needful. For in the mere 
state of nature, if you have a mind to kill, that state itself 
affords you a right ; insomuch as you need not first trust 
him, if for a breach of trust you will afterwards kill him. 
But in a civil state, where the right of life and death 
and of all corporal punishment is with the supreme, 
that same right of killing cannot be granted to any pri- 
vate person. Neither need the supreme himself contract 
with any man patiently to yield to his punishment; but 
only this, that no man offer to defend others from him. 
If in the state of nature, as between two realms, there 
should a contract be made on condition of killing if it 
were not performed, we must presuppose another con- 
tract of not killing before the appointed day. Wherefore 
on that day, if there be no performance, the right of war 
returns, that is a hostile state, in which all things are 
lawful, and therefore resistance also. Lastly, by the 
contract of not resisting, we are obliged, of two evils to 
make choice of that which seems the greater. For certain 
death is a greater evil than fighting. But of two evils it is 
impossible not to choose the least. By such a compact, 
therefore, we should be tied to impossibilities; which 
is contrary to the very nature of compacts. 

19. Likewise no man is tied by any compacts whatsoev- 
er to accuse himself, or any other, by whose damage he 



276 LEVIATHAN 

is like to procure himself a bitter life. Wherefore neither 
is a father obliged to bear witness against his bon, nor 
a husband against his wife, nor a son against his father, 
nor any man against any one by whose means he hath his 
subsistence; for in vain is that testimony which is pre- 
sumed to be corrupted from nature. But although no 
man be tied to accuse himself by any compact, yet in a 
public trial he may by torture be forced to make answer. 
But such answers are no testimony of the fact, but helps 
for the searching out of truth ; so that whether the party 
tortured his answer to be true or false, or whether he 
answer not at all, whatsoever he doth, h> doth it by 
right. 

20. Swearing is a speech joined to a promise, whereby 
the promisor declares his renouncing of God's mercy, 
unless he perform his word. Which definition is con- 
tained in the words themselves, which have in 
them the very essence of an oath, to wit, so 
God help me, or other equivalent, as with the 
Romans, do thou Jupiter so destroy the deceiver, 
as I slay this same beast. Neither is this any let, 
but that an oath may as well sometimes be affirmatory as 
promissory; for he that confirms his affirmation with an 
oath, promiseth that he speaks truth. But though in some 
places it was the fashion for subjects to swear by their 
kings, that custom took its original hence, that those kings 
took upon them divine honour. For oaths were therefore 
introduced, that by religion and consideration of the 
divine power, men might have a greater dread of break- 
ing their faiths, than that wherewith they fear men, 
from whose eyes their actions may lie hid. 

21. Whence it follows that an oath must be conceived 
in that form, which he useth who takes it; for in vain 
is any man brought to swear by a God whom he believes 



NATURAL LAWS 277 

not, and therefore neither fears him. For though by the 
light of nature it may be known that there is a God, 
yet no man thinks he is to swear by him in any other 
fashion, or by any other name, than what is contained in 
the precepts of his own proper, that is (as he who swears 
imagines) the true religion. 

22. By the. definition of an oath, we may understand 
that a bare contract obligeth no less, than that to which 
we are sworn. For it is the contract which binds us; 
the oath relates to the divine punishment, which it could 
not provoke, if the breach of contract were not in itself 
unlawful; but it could not be unlawful, if the contract 
were not obligatory. Furthermore, he that renounceth 
the mercy of God, obligeth himself not to any punish- 
ment; because it is ever lawful to deprecate the punish- 
ment, howsoever provoked, and to enjoy God's pardon 
if it be granted. The only effect therefore of an oath 
is this ; to cause men, who are naturally inclined to 
break all manner of faith, through fear of punishment 
to make the more conscience of their words and actions. 
. 23. To exact an oath where the breach of contract, 
if any be made, cannot but be known, and where the 
party compacted withal wants not power to punish, is 
to do somewhat more than is necessary unto self-defense, 
and shews a mind desirous not so much to benefit itself, 
as to prejudice another. For an oath, out of the very 
form of swearing, is taken in order to the provocation 
of God's anger, that is to say, of him that is omnipotent, 
against those who therefore violate there faith, because 
they think that by their own strength they can escape 
the punishment of men; and of him that is omniscient, 
against those who therefore usually break their trust, 
because they hope that no man shall see them. 



CHAPTER XV. 

OF OTHER LAWS OF NATURE. 

From that law of nature, by which we are obliged to trans- 
fer to another, such rights, as being retained, hinder the 
peace of mankind, there followeth a third ; which is this, 
that men perform their covenants made: without which, 
covenants are in vain, and but empty words ; and the right 
of all men to all things remaining, we arc still in the con- 
dition of war. 

And in this law of nature, consisteth the fountain and 
original of justice. For where no covenant hath pre- 
ceded, there hath no right been transferred, and every man 
has right to every thing; and consequently, no action can 
be unjust. But when a covenant is made, then to break 
it is unjust: and the definition of injustice, is no other 
than the not performance of covenant. And whatsoever is 
not unjust, is just. 

But because covenants of mutual trust, where there 
is a fear of not performance on either part, as hath been 
said in the former chapter, are invalid ; though the original 
of justice be the making of covenants; yet injustice act- 
ually there can be none, till the cause of such fear be taken 
away ; which while men are in the natural condition of 
war, cannot be done. Therefore before the names of 
just, and unjust can have place, there must be some co- 
ercive power, to compel men equally to the performance of 
their covenants, by the terror of some punishment, greater 
than the benefit they expect by the breach of their cov- 
enant ; and to make good that propriety, which by mutual 
contract men acquire, in recompense of the universal right 
they abandon: and such power there is none before the 



LAWS OF NATURE 279 

erection of a commonwealth. 1 And this is also to be gath- 
ered out of the ordinary definition of justice in the 
Schools : for they say, that justice is the constant will of 
giving to every man his own. And therefore where there 
is no own, that is no propriety, there is no injustice; and 
where is no coersive power erected, that is, where there is 
no commonwealth, there is no propriety; all men having 
right to all things : therefore where there is no common- 
wealth, there nothing is unjust. So that the nature of 
justice, consisteth in keeping of valid covenants : but the 
validity of covenants begins not but with the constitution 
of a civil power, sufficient to compel men to keep them : 
and then it is also that propriety begins. 

The fool hath said in his heart, there is no such thing 
as justice ; and sometimes also with his tongue ; seriously 
alleging, that every man's conservation, and contentment, 
being committed to his own care, there could be no reason, 
why every man might not do what he thought conduced 
thereunto : and therefore also to make, or not make ; keep, 
or not keep covenants, was not against reason, when it 
conduced to one's benefit. He does not therein deny, that 



'Compare De Corpore Politico, (M. IV, 129). "Cove- 
nants agreed upon by every man assembled for the making of a 
commonwealth, and put in writing without erecting of a power 
of coercion, are no reasonable security for any of them that so 
covenant, nor are to be called laws, and leave men still in the 
estate of nature and hostility. For seeing the wills of most men 
are governed only by fear, and where there is no power of coer- 
cion, there is no fear, the wills of most men will follow their pas- 
sions of covetousness, lust, anger, and the like, to the breaking 
of those covenants, whereby the rest, also, who otherwise would 
keep them, are set at liberty, and have no law, but from them- 
selves. This power of coercion*****consisteth in the transferring 
of every man's right of resistance against him, to whom he hath 
transferred the power of coercion. It followeth therefore, that 
no man in any commonwealth whatsoever, hath right to resist 
him, or them, to whom they have transferred this power coer- 
cive, or (as men use to call it) the sword of justice, supposing 
the not-resistance possible." Also above p. 54 and below p. 319. 



280 LEVIATHAN 

there be covenants; and that they are sometimes broken, 
sometimes kept; and that such breach of them may 
be called injustice, and the observance of them jus- 
tice: but he questioneth, whether injustice, taking 
away the fear of God, for the same fool hath 
said in his heart there is no God, may not sometimes 
stand with that reason, which dictateth to every man his 
own good; and particularly then, when it conduceth to 
such a benefit, as shall put a man in a condition, to neglect 
not only the dispraise, and revilings, but also the power 
of other men. The kingdom of God is gotten by violence : 
but what if it could be gotten by unjust violence? were 
it against reason so to get it, when it is impossible to re- 
ceive hurt by it? and if it be not against reason, it is not 
against justice; or else justice is not to be approved for 
good. From such reasoning as this, successful wicked- 
ness hath obtained the name of virtue : and some that in 
all other things have disallowed the violation of faith ; 
yet have allowed it, when it is for the getting of a king- 
dom. And the heathen that believed, that Saturn was de- 
posed by his son Jupiter, believed nevertheless the same 
Jupiter to be the avenger of injustice: somewhat like to 
a piece of law in Coke's Commentaries on Littleton; 
where he says, if the right heir of the crown be attainted 
of treason; yet the crown shall descend to him, and 
eo instante the attainder be void : from which instances a 
man will be very prone to infer; that when the heir ap- 
parent of a kingdom, shall kill him that is in possession, 
though his father; you may call it injustice, or by what 
other name you will ; yet it can never be against reason, 
seeing all the voluntary actions of men tend to the bene- 
fit of themselves; and those actions are most reasonable, 
that conduce most to their ends. This specious reasoning 
is nevertheless false. 



LAWS OF NATURE 281 

For the question is not of promises mutual, where 
there is no security of performance on either side ; as when 
there is no civil power erected over the parties promising ; 
for such promises are no covenants : but either where one 
of the parties has performed already ; or where there is a 
power to make him perform ; there is the question whether 
it be against reason, that is, against the benefit of the 
other to perform, or not. And I say it is not against rea- 
son. For the manifestation whereof, we are to consider ; 
first, that when a man doth a thing, which notwithstand- 
ing anything can be foreseen, and reckoned on, tendeth to 
his own destruction, howsoever some accident which he 
could not expect, arriving may turn it to his benefit; yet 
such events do not make it reasonably or wisely done. 
Secondly, that in a condition of war, wherein every man 
to every man, for want of a common power to keep them 
all in awe, is an enemy, there is no man who can hope by 
his own strength, or wit, to defend himself from destruc- 
tion, without the help of confederates ; where everyone ex- 
pects the same defence by the confederation, that any one 
else does: and therefore he which declares he thinks it 
reason to deceive those that help him, can in reason ex- 
pect no other means of safety, than what can be had from 
his own single power. He therefore that breaketh his cov- 
enant, and consequently declareth that he thinks he may 
with reason do so, cannot be received into any society, 
that unite themselves for peace and defense, but by the er- 
ror of them that receive him ; nor when he is received, be 
retained in it, without seeing the danger of their error; 
which errors a man cannot reasonably reckon upon as the 
means of his security : and therefore if he be left, or cast 
out of society, he perisheth ; and if he live in society, it 
is by the errors of other men, which he could not foresee, 
nor reckon upon; and consequently against the reason 



2fe LEVIATHAN 

of his preservation ; and so, as all men that contribute not 
to his destruction, forbear him only out of ignorance of 
what is good for themselves. 

As for the instance of gaining the secure and perpet- 
ual felicity of heaven, by any way ; it is frivolous : there 
being but one way imaginable ; and that is not breaking, 
but keeping of covenant. 

And for the other instance of attaining sovereignty 
by rebellion ; it is manifest, that though the event follow, 
yet because it cannot reasonably be expected, but rather 
the contrary; and because by gaining it so, others are 
taught to gain the same in like manner, the attempt there- 
of is against reason. Justice therefore, that is to say, 
keeping of covenant, is a rule of reason, by which we are 
forbidden to do any thing destructive to our life ; and con- 
sequently a law of nature. 

There be some that proceed further ; and will not have 
the law of nature, to be those rules which conduce to the 
preservation of man's life on earth; but to the attaining 
of an eternal felicity after death ; to which they think the 
breach of covenant may conduce ; and consequently be just 
and reasonable ; such are they that think it a work of merit 
to kill, or depose, or rebel against, the sovereign power 
constituted over them by their own consent. But because 
there is no natural knowledge of man's estate after death ; 
much less of the reward that is then to be given to breach 
of faith; but only a belief grounded upon other men's 
saying, that they know it supernaturally, or that they 
know those, that knew them, that knew others, that knew 
it supernaturally ; breach of faith cannot be called a pre- 
cept of reason, or nature. 

Others, that allow for a law of nature, the keeping 
of faith, do nevertheless make exception of certain per- 
sons; as heretics, and such as use not to perform their 



LAWS OF NATURE 283 

covenant to others : and this also is against reason. For 
if any fault of a man, be sufficient to discharge our coven- 
ant made ; the same ought in reason to have been sufficient 
to have hindered the making of it. 

The names of just, and unjust, when they are at- 
tributed to men, signify one thing ; and when they are at- 
tributed to actions, another. When they are attributed to 
men, they signify conformity, or inconformity of manners, 
to reason. But when they are attributed to actions, they 
signify the conformity, or inconformity to reason, not of 
manners, or manner of life, but of particular actions. 
A just man therefore, is he that taketh all the care he can, 
that his actions may be all just: and an unjust man, is he 
that neglecteth it. And such men are more often in our 
language styled by the names of righteous, and unright- 
eous ; than just, and unjust ; though the meaning be the 
same. Therefore a righteous man, does not lose that title, 
by one, or a few unjust actions, that proceed from sudden 
passion, or mistake of things, or persons: nor does an 
unrighteous man, lose his character, for such actions, as 
he doeSj or forbears to do, for fear: because his will is 
not framed by the justice, but by the apparent benefit of 
what he is to do. That which gives to human actions the 
relish of justice, is a certain nobleness or gallantness of 
courage, rarely found, by which a man scorns to be be- 
holden for the contentment of his life, to fraud, or breach 
of promise. This justice of the manners, is that which is 
meant, where justice is called a virtue; and injustice a 
vice. 

But the justice of actions denominates men, not just, 
but guiltless; and the injustice of the same^ which is also 
called injury, gives them but the name of guilty. 

Again, the injustice of manners) is the disposition, or 
aptitude to do injury ; and is injustice before it proceed to 



284 LEVIATHAN 

act; and without supposing any individual person injured. 
But the injustice of an action, that is to say injury, sup- 
poseth an individual person injured ; namely him, to whom 
the covenant was made: and therefore many times the 
injury is received by one man, when the damage redound- 
eth to another. As when the master commandeth his serv- 
ant to give money to a stranger ; if it be not done, the in- 
jury is done to the master, whom he had before coven- 
anted to obey ; but the damage redoundeth to the stranger, 
to whom he had no obligation ; and therefore could not 
injure him. And so also in commonwealths, private men 
may remit to one another their debts ; but not robberies or 
other violences, whereby they are endamaged ; because the 
detaining of debt, is an injury to themselves ; but robbery 
and violence, are injuries to the person of the common- 
wealth. 

Whatsoever is done, to a man, conformable to his own 
will signified to the doer, is no injury to him. For if he 
that doeth it, hath not passed away his original right to. 
do what he please, by some antecedent covenant, there is 
no breach of covenant; and therefore no injury done him. 
And if he have ; then his will to have it done being signi- 
fied, is a release of that covenant : and so again there is no 
injury done him. 

Justice of actions, is by writers divided into commu- 
tative ', and distributive: and the former they say consist- 
ed in proportion arithmetical; the latter in proportion 
geometrical. Commutative therefore, they place in the 
equality of value of the things contracted for; and dis- 
tributive, in the distribution of equal benefit, to men of 
equal merit. As if it were injustice to sell dearer than we 
buy ; or to give more to a man than he merits. The value 
of all things contracted for, is measured by the appetite of 
the contractors : and therefore the just value, is that which 



LAWS OF NATURE 285 

they be contented to give. And merit, besides that which 
is by covenant, where the performance on one part, 
meriteth the performance of the other part, and falls 
under justice commutative, not distributive, is not due by 
justice; but is rewarded of grace only. And therefore 
this distinction, in the sense wherein it useth to be ex- 
pounded, is not right. To speak properly, commutative- 
justice, is the justice, of a contractor; that is, a perform- 
ance of covenant, in buying, and selling; hiring, and let- 
ting to hire ; lending, and borrowing ; exchanging, barter- 
ing, and other acts of contract. 

And distributive justice, the justice of an arbitrator; 
that is to say, the act of defining what is just. Wherein, 
being trusted by them that make him arbitrator, if he 
perform his trust, he is said to distribute to every man his 
own: and this is indeed just distribution, and may be 
called, though improperly, distributive justice; but more 
properly equity; which also is a law of nature, as shall 
be shown in due place. 

As justice dependeth on antecedent covenant; so does 
gratitude depend on antecedent grace ; that is to say, 
antecedent free gift: and is the fourth law of nature; 
which may be conceived in this form, that a man which 
receiveth benefit from another of mere grace, endeavour 
that he which giveth it, have no reasonable cause to repent 
him of his good will. For no man giveth, but with in- 
tention of good to himself ; because gift is voluntary ; and 
of all voluntary acts, the object is to every man his own 
good ; of which if men see they shall be frustrated, there 
will be no beginning of benevolence, or trust ; nor conse- 
quently of mutual help ; nor of reconciliation of one man 
to another; and therefore they are to remain still in the 
condition of zvar; which is contrary to the first and funda- 
mental law of nature, which commandeth men to seek 



286 LEVIATHAN 

peace. The breach of this law, is called ingratitude; and 
hath the same relation to grace, that injustice hath to ob- 
ligation by covenant. 

A fifth law of nature, is complaisance ; that is to say, 
that every man strive to accommodate himself to the rest. 
For the understanding whereof, we may consider, that 
there is in men's aptness to society, a diversity of nature, 
rising from their diversity of affections ; not unlike to that 
we see in stones brought together for building of an 
edifice. For as that stone which by the asperity, and 
irregularity of figure, takes more room from others, than 
itself fills; and for the hardness, cannot be easily made 
plain, and thereby hindereth the building, is by the build- 
ers cast away as unprofitable, and troublesome : so also, a 
man that by asperity of nature, will strive to retain those 
things which to himself are superfluous, and to others nec- 
essary ; and for the stubbornness of his passions, cannot be 
corrected, is to be left, or cast out of society, as cumber- 
some thereunto. For seeing every man, not only by right, 
but also by necessity of nature, is supposed to endeavour 
all he can, to obtain that which is necessary for his conser- 
vation ; he that shall oppose himself against it, for things 
superfluous, is guilty of the war that thereupon is to fol- 
low; and therefore doth that, which is contrary to the 
fundamental law of nature, which commandeth to seek 
peace. The observers of this law, may be called sociable 
the Latins call them commodi; the contrary, stubborn, in- 
sociable, froward, intractable. 

A sixth law of nature, is this, that upon caution of the 
future time, a man ought to pardon the offences past of 
them that repenting, desire it. For pardon, is nothing but 
granting of peace; which though granted to them that 
persevere in their hostility, be not peace, but fear ; yet not 
granted to them that give caution of the future time, is 



LAWS OF NATURE 287 

sign of an aversion to peace ; and therefore contrary to the 
law of nature. 

A seventh is, that in revenges, that is, retribution of 
evil for evil, men look not at the greatness of the evil past, 
bat the greatness of the good to follow. Whereby we are 
forbidden to inflict punishment with any other design, 
than far correction of the offender, or direction of others. 
For this law is consequent to the next before it, that com- 
mandeth pardon, upon security of the future time. Be- 
sides, revenge without respect to the example, and profit 
to come, is a triumph, or glorying in the hurt of another, 
tending to no end; for the end is always somewhat to 
come ; and glorying to no end, is vain-glory, and contrary 
to reason, and to hurt without reason, tendeth to the intro- 
duction of war; which is against the law of nature; and 
is commonly styled by the name of cruelty. 

And because all signs of hatred, or contempt, provoke 
to fight; insomuch as most men choose rather to hazard 
their life, than not to be revenged ; we may in the eighth 
place, for a law of nature, set down this precept, that no 
man by deed, word, countenance, or gesture, declare- 
hatred, or contempt of another. The breach of which law, 
is commonly called contumely. 

The question who is the better man, has no place in 
the condition of mere nature ; where, as has been shewn 
before, all men are equal. The inequality that now is, 
has been introduced by the laws civil. I know that Aris- 
totle in the first book of his Politics, for a foundation of 
his doctrine, maketh men by nature, some more worthy 
to command, meaning the wiser sort, such as he thought 
himself to be for his philosophy; others to serve, mean- 
ing those that had strong bodies, but were not philoso- 
phers as he; as if master and servant were not intro- 
duced by consent of men, but by diff" erence of wit : which 



288 LEVIATHAN 

is not only against reason ; but also against experience. 
For there are very few so foolish, that had not rather 
govern themselves, than be governed by others : nor when 
the wise in their own conceit, contend by force, with them 
who distrust their own wisdom, do they always, or often, 
or almost at any time, get the victory. If nature therefore 
have made men equal, that equality is to be acknowledged : 
or if nature have made men unequal ; yet because men that 
think themselves equal, will not enter into conditions of 
peace, but upon equal terms, such equality must be ad- 
mitted. And therefore for the ninth law of nature, I put 
this, that every man acknowledge another for his equal by 
nature. The breach of this precept is pride. 

On this law, dependeth another, that at the entrance 
into conditions of peace, no man require to reserve to 
himself any right, which he is not content should be re- 
served to every one of the rest. As it is necessary for all 
men that seek peace, to lay down certain rights of nature ; 
that is to say, not to have liberty to do all they list: so 
is it necessary for man's life, to retain some ; as right to 
govern their own bodies ; enjoy air, water, motion, ways 
to go from place to place; and all things else, without 
which a man cannot live, or not live well. If in this case, 
at the making of peace, men require for themselves, that 
which they would not have to be granted to others, they do 
contrary to the precedent law, that commandeth the 
acknowledgment of natural equality, and therefore also 
against the law of nature. The observers of this law, are 
those we call modest, and the breakers arrogant men. 
The Greeks call the violation of this law nXeovegta; that 
is, a desire of more than their share. 2 



2 Compare De Corpore Politico, (M. IV, 103). "As it was 
necessary that a man should not retain his right to every thing. 
so also was it, that he should retain his right to some things; 



NATURAL LAWS 289 

Also if a man be trusted to judge between man and 
man, it is a precept of the law of nature, that he deal 
equally between them. For without that, the controversies 
of men cannot be determined but by war. He therefore 
that is partial in judgment, doth what in him lies, to deter 
men from the use of judges, and arbitrators; and conse- 
quently, against the fundamental law of nature, is the 
cause of war. 

The observance of this law, from the equal distribution 
to each man, of that which in reason belongeth to him, is 
called equity, and, as I have said before, distributive jus- 
tice: the violation, acception of persons, npoatoKoXytpta 

And from this followeth another law, that such things 
as cannot be divided, be enjoyed in common, if it can be; 
and if the quantity of the thing permit, without stint; 
otherwise proportionably to the number of them that have 
right. For otherwise the distribution is unequal, and con- 
trary to equity. 

But some things there be, that can neither be divided, 
nor enjoyed in common. Then, the law of nature, which 
prescribeth equity, requireth, that the entire right; or 
else, making the use alternate, the first possession, be 
determined by lot. For equal distribution, is of the law 
of nature ; and other means of equal distribution cannot be 
imagined. 

Of lots there be two sorts, arbitrary, and natural. 
Arbitrary, is that which is agieed on by the competit- 

to his own body, for example, the right of defending whereof, 
he could not transfer; to the use of fire, water, free air, and 
place to live in, and to all things necessary for life. Nor doth 
the law of nature command any divesting of other rights, than of 
those only which cannot be retained without the loss of peace. 
Seeing then many rights are retained, when we enter into peace 
one with another, reason and the law of nature dictateth, What- 
soever right any man requireth to retain, he allow every other 
man to retain the same." 



290 LEVIATHAN 

ors : natural, is either primogeniture, which the Greek calls 
xkypovojjiia, which signifies, given by lot; or first seizure. 

And therefore those things which cannot be enjoyed 
in common, nor divided ought to be adjudged to the first 
possessor ; and in some cases to the first born, as acquired 
by lot. 

It is also a law of nature, that all men that mediate 
peace, be allowed safe conduct. For the law that com- 
mandeth peace, a? the end, commandeth intercession, as 
the means; and to intercession the means is safe conduct. 

And because, though men be never so willing to ob- 
serve these laws, there may nevertheless arise questions 
concerning a man's action; first, whether it were done, 
or not done; secondly, if done, whether against the law, 
or not against the law; the former whereof, is called a 
question of fact; the latter a question of right, therefore 
unless the parties to the question, covenant mutually to 
stand to the sentence of another, they are as far from 
peace as ever. This other to whose sentence they submit 
is called an arbitrator. And therefore it is of the law of 
nature, that they that are at controversy, submit their 
right to the judgment of an arbitrator. 

And seeing every man is presumed to do all things 
in order to his own benefit, no man is a fit arbitrator in 
his own cause ; and if he were never so fit ; yet equity 
allowing to each party equal benefit, if one be admitted 
to be judge, the other is to be admitted also ; and so the 
controversy, that is, the cause of war, remains, against 
the law of nature. 

For the same reason no man in any cause ought to be 
received for arbitrator, to whom greater profit, or honour, 
or pleasure apparently ariseth out of the victory of one 
party, than of the other: for he hath taken, though an un- 



NATURAL LAWS 291 

trust him. And thus also the controversy, and the con- 
dition of war remaineth, contrary to the law of nature. 

And in a controversy of fact, the judge being to give 
more credit to one, than to the other, if there be no 
other arguments, must give credit to a third ; or to a third 
and fourth ; or more : for else the question is undecided, 
and left to force, contrary to the law of nature. 

These are the laws of nature, dictating peace, for a 
means of the conservation of men in multitudes; and 
which only concern the doctrine of civil society. There 
be other things tending to the destruction of particular 
men ; as drunkenness, and all other parts of intemperance ; 
which may therefore also be reckoned amongst those 
things which the law of nature hath forbidden; but are 
not necessary to be mentioned, nor are pertinent enough 
to this place. 

And though this may seem too subtle a deduction of 
the laws of nature, to be taken notice of by all men ; where- 
of the most part are too busy in getting food, and the rest 
too negligent to understand; yet to leave all men inex- 
cusable, they have been contracted into one easy sum, in- 
telligible even to the meanest capacity; and that is, Do 
not that to another, which thou wouldst not have done to 
thyself; which sheweth him, that he has no more to do in 
learning the laws of nature, but, when weighing the 
actions of other men with his own, they seem too heavy, 
to put them into the other part of the balance, and his 
own into their place, that his own passions, and self-love, 
may add nothing to the weight; and then there is none 
of these laws of nature that will not appear unto him 
very reasonable. 

The laws of nature oblige in foro interno; that is to 
say, they bind to a desire they should take place: but 
in foro externo; that is, to the putting them in act, not 



292 LEVIATHAN 

always. For he that should be modest, and tractable, 
and perform all he promises, in such time, and place, 
where no man else should do so, should but make himself 
a prey to others, and procure his own certain ruin, con- 
trary to the ground of all laws of nature, which tend to 
nature's preservation. And again, he that having suf- 
ficient security, that others shall observe the same laws to- 
wards him, observes them not himself, seeketh not peace, 
but war; and consequently the destruction of his nature 
by violence. 

And whatsoever laws bind in foro interno, may be 
broken, not only by a fact contrary to the law, but also 
by a fact according to it, in case a man think it contrary. 
For though his action in this case, be according to the 
law ; yet his purpose was against the law ; which, where 
the obligation is in foro interno, is 3 breach. 

The laws of nature are immutable and eternal ; for in- 
justice, ingratitude, arrogance, pride, iniquity, acception 
of persons, and the rest, can never be made lawful. For 
it can never be that war shall preserve life, and peace de- 
stroy it. 3 

The same laws, because they oblige only to a desire, 
and endeavour, I mean an unfeigned and constant en- 
deavour, are easy to be observed. For in that they require 
nothing but endeavour, he that endeavoureth their per- 
formance, fulfilleth them, and he that fulfilleth the law, 
is just. 

And the science of them, is the true and only moral 






3 Compare Philosophical Rudiments, (M. II, 50). 'The 
same lav which is natural and moral, is also wont to be called 
divine, no; undeservedly ; a« well because reason, which is the law 
of nature, is given by God to every man for the rule of his ac- 
tions ; a v because the precepts of living which are thence derived, 
are the same with those which have been delivered from the di- 
vine Majesty for the laws of his heavenly kingdom, by our Lord 



NATURAL LAWS 2Q3 

philosophy. 4 For moral philosophy is nothing else but 
the science of what is good, and evil, in the conversation, 
and society of mankind. Good, and evil, are names that 
signify our appetites, and aversions ; which in different 
tempers, customs, and doctrines of men, are different: 
and divers men, differ not only in their judgment, on the 
senses of what is pleasant, and unpleasant to the taste, 
smell, hearing, touch, and sight ; but also of what is com- 
formable, or disagreeable to reason, in the actions of 
common life. Nay, the same man, in divers times, differs 
from himself; and one time praiseth, that is, calleth good, 
what another time he dispraiseth, and calleth evil: from 
whence arise disputes, controversies, and at last war. 
And therefore so long as a man is in the condition of 
mere nature, which is a condition of war, as private appe- 
tite is the measure of good, and evil : and consequently all 
men agree on this, that peace is good, and therefore also 
the way, or means of peace, which, as I have shewed be- 
fore, are justice, gratitude, modesty, equity, mercy, and 1 
the rest of the laws of nature, are good; that is to say; 
moral virtues; and their contrary vices, evil. Now the 
science of virtue and vice, is moral philosophy ; and there- 
fore the true doctrine of the laws of nature, is the true 
moral philosophy. But the writers of moral philosophy, 
though they acknowledge the same virtues and vices ; yet 
not seeing wherein consisted 'heir goodness; nor that 
they come to be praised, as the means of peaceable, soci- 
able, and comfortable living, place them in a mediocrity of 
passions: as if not the cause, but the degree of daring, 



Jesus Christ, and his holy prophets and apostles." And also 
p. 236, n. 2. and De Corpore Politico, (M. IV, 224). "The law 
of nature, which is also the moral law, is the law of the author of 
nature, God Almighty; and the law of God taught by our Sav- 
iour Christ, is the moral law." 
* Compare above p. 178, n. I. 



294 LEVIATHAN 

made fortitude; or not the cause, but the quantity of a 
gift, made liberality. 

These dictates of reason, men used to call by the name 
of laws, but improperly: for they are but conclusions, 
or theorems concerning what conduceth to the conser- 
vation and defence of themselves ; whereas law, properly, 
is the word of him, that by right hath command over 
others. But yet if we consider the same theorems, as 
delivered in the word of God, that by right commandeth 
all things ; then are they properly called laws. 

PARALLEL CHAPTER FROM 

PHILOSOPHICAL RUDIMENTS CONCERNING 

GOVERNMENT. 

CHAPTER III. 

OF THE OTHER LAWS OF NATURE. 

I. Another of the laws of nature is, to perform con- 
tracts, or to keep trust. For it hath been showed in the 
foregoing chapter, that the law of nature commands 
every man, as a thing necessary, to obtain peace, to con- 
vey certain rights from each to other; and that this, as 
often as it shall happen to be done, is called a contract. 
But this is so far forth only conducible to peace, as we 
shall perform ourselves what we contract with others 
shall be done or omitted ; and in vain would contracts be 
made, unless we stood to them. Because therefore to 
stand to our covenants, or to keep faith, is a thing neces- 
sary for the obtaining of peace ; it will prove, by the 
second article of the second chapter, to be a precept of the 
natural law. 

2. Neither is there in this matter any exception of the 
persons with whom we contract; as if they keep no faith 
with others, or hold that none ought to be kept, or are 



LAWS OF NATURE 295 

guilty of any other kind of vice. For he that contracts, 
in that he doth contract, denies that action to be in vain ; 
and it is against reason for a knowing man to do a thing 
in vain ; and if he think himself not bound to keep it, in 
thinking so he affirms the contract to be made in vain. 
He therefore who contracts with one with whom he 
thinks he is not bound to keep faith, he doth at once 
think a contract to be a thing done in vain, and not in 
vain; which is absurd. Either therefore we must hold 
trust with all men, or else not bargain with them ; that is, 
either there must be a declared war, or a sure and faith- 
ful peace. 

3. The breaking of a bargain, as also the taking back 
of a gift, (which ever consists in some action or omis- 
sion), is called an injury. But that action or omission 
is called unjust; insomuch as an injury, and an unjust 
action or omission, signify the same thing, and both 
are the same with breach of contract and trust. And 
it seems the word injury came to be given to any action 
or omission, because they were without right; he that 
acted or omitted, having before conveyed his right to 
some other. And there is some likeness between that 
which in the common course of life we call injury, and 
that which in the Schools is usually called absurd. For 
even as he who by arguments is driven to deny the as- 
sertion which he first maintained, is said to be brought to 
an absurdity; in like manner, he who through weakness 
of mind does or omits that which before he had by 
contract promised not to do or omit, commits an injury, 
and falls into no less contradiction than he who in the 
Schools is reduced to an absurdity. For by contract- 
ing for some future action, he wills it done ; by not doing 
it, he wills it not done : which is to will a thing done and 
not done at the same time, which is a contradiction. 



296 LEVIATHAN 

An injury therefore is a kind of absurdity in conver- 
sation, as an absurdity is a kind of injury in disputation. 
4. From these grounds it follows, that an injury can 
be done to no man* but him with whom we enter coven- 
ant, or to whom somewhat is made over by deed of gift, 
or to whom somewhat is promised by way of bargain. 
And therefore damaging and injuring are often disjoin- 
ed. For if a master command his servant, who hath 
promised to obey him, to pay a sum of money, or carry 
some present to a third man ; the servant, if he do it not, 
hath indeed damaged this third party, but he injured 
his master only. So also in a civil government, if any 
man offend another with whom he hath made no contract, 
he damages him to whom the evil is done; but he injures 
none but him to whom the power of government be- 
longs. For if he who receives the hurt should expos- 
tulate the mischief, he that did it should answer thus: 
what art thou to me; why should I rather do according 
to your than mine own will, since I do not hinder but 
you may do your own, and not my mind? In which 
speech, where there hath no manner of pre-contract 
passed, I see not, I confess, what is reprehensible. 
5. These words, just and unjust, as also justice and 



^Injury can be done to no man, &c] The word injustice re- 
lates to some law: injury, to some person, as well as some law. 
For what is unjust, is unjust to all; but there .may an injury be 
done, and yet not against me, nor thee, but some other; and 
sometimes against no private person, but the magistrate only ; 
sometimes also neither against the magistrate, nor any private 
man, but only against God. For through contract and conveyance 
of right, we say, that an injury is done against this or that man. 
Hence it is, which we see in all kind of government, that what 
private men contract between themselves by word or writing, 
is released again at the will of the obligor. But those mischiefs 
which are done against the laws of the land, as theft, homicide, 
and the like, are punished, not as he wills to whom the hurt is 
done, but according to the will of the magistrate ; that is. the 
constituted laws. 



LAWS OF NATURE 297 

injustice, are equivocal ; for they signify one thing when 
they are attributed to persons, another when to actions. 
When they are attributed to actions, just signifies as 
much as what is done with right, and unjust, as what is 
done with injury. He who hath done some just thing, 
is not therefore said to be a just person, but guiltless; 
and he that hath done some unjust thing, we do not 
therefore say he is an unjust, but guilty man. But when 
the words are applied to persons, to be just signifies as 
much as to be delighted in just dealing, to study how to 
do righteousness, or to endeavour in all things to do 
that which is just; and to be unjust is to neglect right- 
eous dealing, or to think it is to be measured not ac- 
cording to my contract, but some present benefit. So as 
the justice or injustice of the mind, the intention, 
or the man, is one thing, that of an action or omission 
another; and innumerable actions of a just man may 
be unjust, and of an unjust man, just. But that man 
is to be accounted just, who doth just things because 
the law commands it, unjust things only by reason of 
his infirmity; and he is properly said to be unjust, who 
doth righteousness for fear of the punishment annexed 
unto the law, and unrighteousness by reason of the in- 
iquity of his mind. 

6. The justice of actions is commonly distinguished 
into two kinds, commutative and distributive ; the former 
whereof, they say, consists in arithmetical, the latter in 
geometrical proportion; and that is conversant in ex- 
changing, in buying, selling, borrowing, lending, loca- 
tion and conduction, and other acts whatsoever belonging 
to contractors; where, if there be an equal return made, 
hence, they say, springs a commutatve justice : but this is 
busied about the dignity and merits of men; so as if there 
be rendered to every man xard rijv ag(a\>, more to him who 



298 LEVIATHAN 

is more worthy, and less to him that deserves less, and 
that proportionably ; hence, they say, ariseth distributive 
justice. I acknowledge here some certain distinction of 
equality : to wit, that one is an equality simply so called ; 
as when two things of equal value are compared together, 
as a pound of silver with twelve ounces of the same 
silver : the other is an equality secundum quod; as when 
a thousand pounds is to be divided to a hundred men, 
six hundred pounds are given to sixty men, and four 
hundred to forty, where there is no equality between 
six hundred and four hundred; but when it happens 
that there is the same inequality in the number of them 
to whom it is distributed, every one of them shall take 
an equal part, whence it is called an equal distribution. 
But such like equality is the same thing with geomet- 
rical proportion. But what is all this to justice? For 
neither if I sell my goods for as much as I can get for 
them, do I injure the buyer, who sought and desired 
them of me; neither if I divide more of what is mine 
to him who deserves less, so long as I give the other 
what I have agreed for, do I wrong to either. Which 
truth our Saviour himself, being God, testifies in the 
Gospel. This therefore is no distinction of justice, but of 
equality. Yet perhaps it cannot be denied but that jus- 
tice is a certain equality, as consisting in this only; that 
since we are all equal by nature, one should not arrogate 
more right to himself than he grants to another, unless 
he have fairly gotten it by compact. And let this suf- 
fice to be spoken against this distinction of justice, al- 
though now almost generally received by all; lest any 
man should conceive an injury to be somewhat else 
than the breach of faith or contract, as hath been de- 
fined above. 

7. It is an old saying, volenti non fit injuria, the 



LAWS OF NATURE 299 

willing man receives no injury; yet the truth of it may 
be derived from our principles. For grant that a man be 
willing that that should be done which he conceives to 
be an injury to him; why then, that is done by his will, 
which by contract was not lawful to be done. But he 
being willing that should be done which was not law- 
ful by contract, the contract itself (by the fifteenth art- 
icle of the foregoing chapter) becomes void. The right 
therefore of doing it returns; therefore it is done by 
right; wherefore it is no injury. 

8. The third precept of the natural law is, that you 
suffer not him to be the worse for you, who, out of the 
confidence he had in you, first did you a good turn; or 
that you accept not a gift, but with a mind to endeavour 
that the giver shall have no just occasion to repent him 
of his gift. For without this, he should act without rea- 
son, that would confer a benefit where he sees it would be 
lost; and by this means all beneficence and trust, to- 
gether with all kind of benevolence, would be taken from 
among men, neither would there be aught of mutual 
assistance among them, nor any commencement of gain- 
ing grace and favour ; by reason whereof the state of war 
would necessarily remain, contrary to the fundamental 
law of nature. But because the breach of this law is not 
a breach of trust or contract, (for we suppose no con- 
tracts to have passed among them), therefore is it not 
usually termed an injury; but because good turns and 
thanks have a mutual eye to each other, it is calld in- 
gratitude. 

9. The fourth precept of nature is, that every man 
render himself useful unto others: which that we may 
rightly understand, we must remember that there is in 
men a diversity of dispositions to enter into society, 
arising from the diversity of their affections, not unlike 



3oo LEVIATHAN 

that which is found in stones, brought together in the 
building, by reason of the diversity of their matter and 
figure. For as a stone, which in regard of its sharp and 
angular form takes up more room from other stones than 
it fills up itself, neither because of the hardness of its mat- 
ter can it well be pressed together, or easily cut, and 
would hinder the building from being fitly compacted, 
is cast away, as not fit for use : so a man, for the harsh- 
ness of his disposition in retaining superfluities for him- 
self, and detaining of necessaries from others, and being 
incorrigible by reason of the stubborness of his affections, 
is commonly said to be useless and troublesome unto 
others. Now, because each one not by right only, but 
even by natural necessity, is supposed with all his main 
might to intend the procurement of those things which 
are necessary to his own preservation; if any man 
will contend on the other side for superfluities, by his 
default there will arise a war ; because that on him alone 
there lay no necessity of contending; he therefore acts 
against the fundamental law of nature. Whence it fol- 
lows, (which we were to show), that it is a precept of 
nature, that every man accommodate himself to others. 
But he who breaks this law, may be called useless and 
troublesome. Yet Cicero opposeth inhumanity to this 
usefulness, as having regard to this very law. 

10. The fifth precept of the law of nature is, that 
we must forgive him who repents and asks pardon for 
zuhat is past, having first taken caution for the time to 
come. The pardon of what is past, or the remission of 
an offence, is nothing else but the granting of peace to 
him that asketh it, after he hath warred against us, and 
now is become penitent. But peace granted to him that 
repents not, that is, to him that retains a hostile mind, 
or that gives not caution for the future, that is, seeks not 



LAWS OF NATURE 301 

peace, but opportunity; is not properly peace, but fear, 
and therefore is not commanded by nature. Now to him 
that will not pardon the penitent and that gives future 
caution, peace itself it seems is not pleasing: which is 
contrary to the natural law. 

11. The sixth precept of the natural law is, that in 
revenge and punishments we must have our eye not at 
the evil past, but the future good: that is, it is not lawful 
to inflict punishment for any other end, but that the 
offender may be corrected, or that others warned by his 
punishment may become better. But this is confirmed 
chiefly from hence, that each man is bound by the law 
of nature to forgive one another, provided he give cau- 
tion for the future, as hath been showed in the fore- 
going article. Furthermore, because revenge, if the time 
past be only considered, is nothing else but a certain 
triumph and glory of mind, which points at no end; for 
it contemplates only what is past, but the end is a thing 
to come ; but that which is directed to no end, is vain : 
that revenge therefore which regards not the future, 
proceeds from, vain glory, and is therefore without rea- 
son. But to hurt another without reason, introduces 
a war, and is contrary to the fundamental law of nature. 
It is therefore a precept of the law of nature, that in 
revenge we look not backwards, but forward. Now the 
breach of this law is commonly called cruelty. 

12. But because all signs of hatred and contempt 
provoke most of all to brawling and fighting, insomuch 
as most men would rather lose their lives (that I say not, 
their peace) than suffer slander; it follows in the seventh 
place, that it is prescribed by the law of nature, that no 
man, either by deeds or words, countenance or laughter, 
do declare himself to hate or scorn another. The breach 
of which law is called reproach. But although nothing 



302 LEVIATHAN 

be more frequent than the scoffs and jeers of the power- 
ful against the weak, and namely, of judges against 
guilty persons, which neither relate to the offense of the 
guilty, nor the duty of the judges ; yet these kind of men 
do act against the law of nature, and are to be esteemed 
for contumelious. 

13. The question whether of two men be the more wor- 
thy, belongs not to the natural, but civil state. For it hath 
been showed before (Chap. 1. Art. 3) that all men by 
nature are equal ; and therefore the inequality which now 
is, suppose from riches, power, nobility of kindred, is 
come from the civil law. I know that Aristotle, in his 
first book of Politics, affirms as a foundation of the whole 
political science, that some men by nature are made wor- 
thy to command, others only to serve; as if lord and 
servant were distinguished not by consent of men, but by 
an aptness, that is, a certain kind of natural knowledge or 
ignorance. Which foundation is not only against reason, 
(as but now hath been showed), but also against expe- 
rience. For neither almost is any man so dull of under- 
standing as not to judge it better to be ruled by himself, 
than to yield himself to the government of another ; nei- 
ther if the wiser and stronger do contest, have these 
always or often the upper hand of those. Whether there- 
fore men be equal by nature, the equality is to be acknowl- 
edged; or whether unequal, because they are like to 
contest for dominion, it is necessary for the obtaining 
of peace, that they be esteemed as equal; and therefore 
it is in the eighth place a precept of the law of nature, 
that every man be accounted by nature equal to another; 
the contrary to which law is pride. 

14. As it was necessary to the conservation of each 
man that he should part with some of his rights, so it is 
no less necessary to the same conservation that he retain 



LAWS OF NATURE 303 

some others, to wit, the right of bodily protection, of 
free enjoyment of air, water, and all necessaries for life. 
Since therefore many common rights are retained by 
those who enter into a peaceable state, and that many 
peculiar ones are also acquired, hence ariseth this ninth 
dictate of the natural law, to wit, that what rights soever 
any man challenges to himself, he also grant the same 
as due to all the rest ; otherwise he frustrates the equality 
acknowledged in the former article. For what is it else 
to acknowledge an equality of persons in the making 
up of society, but to attribute equal right and power 
to those whom no reason would else engage to enter into 
society? But to ascribe equal things to equals, is the 
same with giving things proportional to proportionals. 
The observation of this law is called meekness, the 
violation nXeovs&a; the breakers by the Latins are 
styled immodici et immodesti. 

15. In the tenth place it is commanded by the law of 
nature, that every man in dividing right to others, shew 
himself equal to either party. By the foregoing law we 
are forbidden to assume more right by nature to our- 
selves, than we grant to others. We may take less if 
we will; for that sometimes is an argument of modesty. 
But if at any time matter of right be to be divided by 
us unto others, we are forbidden by this law to favour 
one more or less than another. For he that by favouring 
one before another observes not this natural equality, 
reproaches him whom he thus undervalues: but it is 
declared abeve, that a reproach is against the laws of 
nature. The observance of this precept is called equity; 
the breach, respect of persons. The Greeks in one word 

term it TzpoawKolrjil'la. 

16. From the foregoing law is collected this eleventh, 
those things which cannot be divided, must be used 



304 LEVIATHAN 

in common if they can, and if the quantity of the matter 
permit, every man as much as he lists; but if the quan- 
tity permit not, then with limitation, and proportion- 
ally to the number of the users. For otherwise that 
equality can by no means be observed, which we have 
showed in the foregoing article to be commanded by the 
law of nature. 

17 Also what cannot be divided nor had in common, 
it is provided by the law of nature, which may be the 
twelfth precept, that the itse of that thing be either by 
turns, or adjudged to one only by lot; and that in the 
using it by turns, it be also decided by lot, who shall 
have the first use of it. For here also regard is to be had 
unto equality: but no other can be found but that of lot. 

18. But all lot is twofold, arbitrary or natural. Ar- 
bitrary is that which is cast by the consent of the contend- 
ers, and it consists in mere chance, as they say, or fortune. 
Natural is primogeniture, in Greek, xXypovopta, as it 
were, given by lot; or first possession. Therefore the 
things which can neither be divided nor had in common, 
must be granted to the first possessor ; as also those things 
which belonged to the father are due to the son, unless 
the father himself have formerly conveyed away that 
right to some other. Let this therefore stand for the 
thirteenth law of nature. 

19. The fourteenth precept of the law of nature is, 
that safety must be assured to the mediators for peace. 
For the reason which commands the end, commands also 
the means necessary to the end. But the first dictate of 
reason is peace; all the rest are means to obtain it, and 
without which peace cannot be had. But neither can 
peace be had without mediation, nor mediation without 
safety. It is therefore a dictate of reason, that is, a 
law of nature, that we must give all security to the medi- 
ators for peace. 



LAWS OF NATURE 305 

20. Furthermore because, although men should agree 
to make all these and whatsoever other laws of nature, 
and should endeavour to keep them, yet doubts and con- 
troversies would daily arise concerning the application of 
them unto their actions, to wit, whether what was done 
were against the law or not, which we call the question of 
right ; whence will follow a fight between parties, either- 
sides supposing themselves wronged: it is therefore nec- 
essary to the preservation of peace, because in this case 
no other fit remedy can possibly be thought on, that both 
the disagreeing parties refer the matter unto some third, 
and oblige themselves by mutual compacts to stand to his 
judgment in deciding the controversy. And he to whom 
they thus refer themselves, is called an arbiter. It is 
therefore the fifteenth precept of the natural law, that 
both parties disputing concerning the matter of right, 
submit themselves unto the opinion and judgment of 
some third. 

21. But from this ground, that an arbiter or judge 
is chosen by the differing parties to determine the contro- 
versy, we gather that the arbiter must not be one of the 
parties. For every man is presumed to seek what is good 
for himself naturally, and what is just only for peace 
sake ?nd accidentally; and therefore cannot observe that 
same equality commanded by the law of nature, so ex- 
actly as a third man would do. It is therefore in the 
sixteenth place contained in the law of nature, that no 
man must be judge or arbiter in his ozvn cause. 

22. From the same ground follows in the seventeenth 
place, that no man must be judge, who propounds unto 
himself any hope of pro-fit or glory from the victory of 
either part: for the like reason sways here, as in the fore- 
going law. 

23. But when there is some controversy of the fact 



306 LEVIATHAN 

itself, to wit, whether that be done or not which is said 
to be done, the natural law wills that the arbiter trust both 
parties alike, that is, because they affirm contradictories, 
that he believe neither. He must therefore give credit to 
a third, or a third and fourth, or more, that he may be 
able to give judgment of the fact, as often as by other 
signs he cannot come to the knowledge of it. The eigh- 
teenth law of nature therefore enjoins arbiters and judges 
of fact, that where firm and certain signs of the fact ap- 
pear not, there they rule their sentence by such witnesses 
as seem to be indifferent to both parts. 

24. From the above declared definition of an arbiter 
may be furthermore understood, that no contract or 
promise must pass between him and the parties whose 
judge he is appointed, by virtue whereof he may be en- 
gaged to speak in favour of either part, nay, or be 
obliged to judge according to equity, or to pronounce 
such sentence as he shall truly judge to be equal The 
judge is indeed bound to give such sentence as he shall 
judge to be equal, by the law of nature recounted in the 
15th article: to the obligation of which law nothing can 
be added by way of compact. Such compact therefore 
would be in vain. Besides, if giving wrong judgment 
he should contend for the equity of it, except such com- 
pact be of no force, the controversy would remain after 
judgment given : which is contrary to the constitution of 
an arbiter, who is so chosen, as both parties have obliged 
themselves to stand to the judgment which he should pro- 
nounce. The law of nature therefore commands the 
judge to be disengaged, which is its nineteenth precept. 

25. Furthermore, forasmuch as the laws of nature 
are nought else but the dictates of reason ; so as, unless 
a man endeavour to preserve the faculty of right reason- 
ing, he cannot observe the laws of nature; it is manifest, 



LAWS OF NATURE 307 

that he who knowingly or willingly doth aught whereby 
the rational faculty may be destroyed or weakened, he 
knowingly and willingly breaks the law of nature. For 
there is no difference between a man who preforms not 
his duty, and him who does such things willingly as make 
it impossible for him to do it. But they destroy and 
weaken the reasoning faculty, who do that which dis- 
turbs the mind from its natural state; that which most 
manifestly happens to drunkards, and gluttons. We 
therefore sin, in the twentieth place, against the law of 
nature by drunkenness. 

26. Perhaps some man, who sees all these precepts 
of nature derived by a certain artifice from the single 
dictate of reason advising us to look to the preservation 
and safeguard of ourselves, will say that the deduction of 
these laws is so hard, that it is not to be expected they 
will be vulgarly known, and therefore neither will they 
prove obliging: for laws, if they be not known, oblige 
not, nay indeed, are not laws To this I answer, it is true, 
that hope, fear, anger, ambition, covetousness, vain glory, 
and other pertubations of mind, do hinder a man, so as he 
cannot attain to the knowledge of these laws whilst those 
passions prevail in him : but there is no man who is not 
sometimes in a quiet mind. At that time therefore there 
is nothing easier for him to know, though he be never so 
rude and unlearned, than this only rule, that when he 
doubts whether what he is now doing to another may 
be done by the law of nature or not, he conceive himself 
to be in that others' stead. Here instantly those perturba- 
tions which persuaded him to the fact, being now cast 
into the ether scale, dissuade him as much. And this 
rule is not only easy, but is anciently celebrated in these 
words, quod tibi fieri non vis, alteri feceris: . do not 
that to others, you would not have done to yourself- 



308 LEVIATHAN 

2Tj. But because most men, by reason of their per- 
verse desire of present profit, are very unapt to observe 
these laws, although acknowledged by them; if perhaps 
some, more humble than the rest, should exercise that 
equity and usefulness which reason dictates, the others 
not practising the same, surely they would not follow 
reason in so doing : nor would they hereby procure them- 
selves peace, but a more certain quick destruction, and 
the keepers of the law become a mere prey to the breakers 
of it. It is not therefore to be imagined, that by nature, 
that is, by reason, men are obliged to the exercise of all 
these laws* in that state of men wherein they are not 
practiced by others. We are obliged yet, in the interim, 
to a readiness of mind to observe them, whensoever their 
observation shall seem to conduce to the end for which 
they were ordained. We must therefore conclude, that 
the law of nature doth always and everywhere oblige in 
the internal court, or that of conscience ; but not always in 
the external court, but then only when it may be done 
with safety. 

28. But the laws which oblige conscience, may be 



*The exercise of all these laws.] Nay, among these laws some 
things there are, the omission whereof, provided it be done for 
peace or self-preservation, seems rather to be the fulfilling, than 
breach of the natural law. For he that doth all things against 
those that do all things, and plunders plunderers, doth equity. 
But on the contrary, to do that which in peace is a handsome 
action, and becoming an honest man, is dejectedness and poor- 
ness of spirit, and a betraying of one's self, in the time of war. 
But there are certain natural laws, whose exercise ceaseth not 
even in the time of war itself. For I cannot understand what 
drunkenness or cruelty, that is, revenge which respects not the 
future good, can advance toward peace, or the preservation of 
any man. Briefly, in the state of nature, what is just and unjust, 
is not to be esteemed by the actions but by the counsel and con- 
science of the actor. That which is done out of necessity, out 
of endeavour for peace, for the preservation of ourselves, is done 
with right, otherwise every damage done to a man would be a 
breach of the natural law, and an injury against God. 



LAWS OF NATURE 309 

broken by an act not only contrary to them, but also 
agreeable with them ; if so be that he who does it, be of 
another opinion. For though the act itself be answerable 
to the laws, yet his conscience is against them. 

29. The lazus of nature are immutable and eternal' 
what they forbid, can never be lawful ; what they com- 
mand, can never be unlawful. For pride, ingratitude, 
breach of contracts (or injury), inhumanity, contumely, 
will never be lawful, nor the contrary virtues to these 
ever unlawful, as we take them for dispositions of the 
mind, that is, as they are considered in the court of con- 
science, where only they oblige and are laws. Yet actions 
may be so diversified by circumstances and the civil law, 
that what is done with equity at one time, is guilty of in- 
iquity at another ; and what suits with reason at one time, 
is contrary to it another. Yet reason is still the same, and 
changeth not her end, which is peace and defence, nor 
the means to attain them, to wit, those virtues of the 
mind which we have declared above, and which cannot 
be abrogated by any custom or law whatsoever. 

30. It is evident by what hath hitherto been said, how 
easily the laws of nature are to be observed, because they 
require the endeavour only, (but that must be true and 
constant) ; which whoso shall perform, we may rightly 
call him just. For he who tends to this with his whole 
might, namely, that his actions be squared according to 
the precepts of nature, he shows clearly that he hath a 
mind to fulfil all those laws ; which is all we are obliged 
to by rational nature. Now he that hath done all he is 
obliged to, is a just man. 

31. All writers do agree, that the natural law is the 
same with the moral. Let us see wherefore this is true. 
We must know, therefore, that good and evil are names 
given to tilings to signify the inclination or aversion of 



310 LEVIATHAN 

them, by whom they were given. But the inclinations of 
men are diverse, according to their diverse constitutions, 
customs, opinions; as we may see in those things we ap- 
prehend by sense, as by tasting, touching, smelling; but 
much more in those which pertain to the common actions 
of life, where what this man commends, that is to say, 
calls good, the other undervalues, as being evil. Nay, 
very often the same man at diverse times praises and dis- 
praises the same thing. Whilst thus they do, necessary 
it is there should be discord and strife. They are, there- 
fore, so long in the state of war, as by reason of the di- 
versity of the present appetite, they mete good and evil 
by diverse measures. All men easily acknowledge this 
state, as long as they are in it, to be evil, and by conse- 
quence that peace is good. They therefore who could not 
agree concerning a present, do agree concerning a future 
good ; which indeed is a work of reason ; for things pres- 
ent are obvious to the sense, things to come to our reason 
only. Reason declaring peace to be good, it follows by 
the same reason, that all the necessary means to peace 
be good also; and therefore that modesty, equity, trust, 
humanity, mercy, (which we have demonstrated to be 
necessary to peace), are good manners or habits, that is, 
virtues. The law therefore, in the means to peace, com- 
mands also good manners, or the practice of virtue ; and 
therefore it is called moral. 

2,2. But because men cannot put off this same irra- 
tional appetite, whereby they greedily prefer the present 
good (to which, by strict consequence, many unforseen 
evils do adhere) before the future; it happens, that 
though all men do agree in the commendation of the fore- 
said virtues, yet they disagree still concerning their na- 
ture, to wit, in what each of them doth consist. For as 
oft as another's good action displeaseth any man, that 



LAWS OF NATURE 3 n 

action hath the name given of some neighbouring vice; 
likewise the bad actions which please them, are ever entit- 
uled to some virtue. Whence it comes to pass that the 
same action is praised by these, and called virtue, and dis- 
praised by those, and termed vice. Neither is there as yet 
any remedy found by philosophers for this matter. For 
since they could not observe the goodness of actions to 
consist in this, that it was in order to peace, and the evil 
in this, that it related to discord, they built a moral philos- 
ophy wholly estranged from the moral law, and uncon- 
stant to itself. For they would have the nature of virtues 
seated in a certain kind of mediocrity between two ex- x 
tremes, and the vices in the extremes themselves; which 
is apparently false. For to dare is commended, and, un- 
der the name of fortitude is taken for a virtue, although 
it be an extreme, if the cause be approved. Also the quan- 
tity of a thing given, whether it be great or little, or be- 
tween both, makes not liberality, but the cause of giving 
it. Neither is it injustice, if I give any man more of 
what is mine own than I owe him. The laws of nature, 
therefore, are the sum of moral philosophy; whereof I 
have only delivered such precepts in this place, as apper- 
tain to the preservation of ourselves against those dangers 
which arise from discord. But there are other precepts 
of rational nature, from whence spring other virtues ; for 
temperance, also, is a precept of reason, because intem- 
perance tends to sickness and death. And so fortitude 
too, that is, that same faculty of resisting stoutly in pres- 
ent clangers, and which are more hardly declined than 
overcome ; because it is a means tending to the preserva- 
tion of him that resists. 

33. But those which we call the laws of nature, (since 
they are nothing else but certain conclusions, understood 
bv reason, of things to be done and omitted ; but a law, 



312 LEVIATHAN 

to speak properly and accurately, is the speech of him 
who by right commands somewhat to others to be done 
or omitted), are not in propriety of speech laws, as they 
proceed from nature. Yet, as they are delivered by God 
in holy Scriptures, as we shall see in the chapter follow- 
ing, they are most properly called by the name of laws. 
For the sacred Scripture is the speech of God command- 
ing over all things by greatest right. 



CHAPTER XVI. 

OF PERSONS, AUTHORS, AND THINGS PERSONATED. 

A person, is he, whose words or actions are considered, 
either as his own, or as representing the words or actions 
of another man, or of any other thing, to whom ihey 
are attributed, zvhether truly or by fiction. 

When they are considered as his own, then is he called 
a natural person: and when they are considered as repre- 
senting the words and actions of another, then is he a 
feigned or artificial person. 

The word person is Latin : instead whereof the Greeks 
have i:p6<T(DKo\>, which signifies the face, as persona in 
Latin signifies the disguise, or outward appearance of a 
man, counterfeited on the stage ; and sometimes more par- 
ticularly that part of it, which disguiseth the face, as a 
mask or vizard : and from the stage, hath been translated 
to any representer of speech and action, as well in tribu- 
nals, as theatres. So that a person, is the same that an 
actor is, both on the stage and in common conversation; 
and to personate, is to act, or represent himself, or an- 
other; and he that acteth another, is said to bear his 
person, or act in his name; in which sense Cicero useth 
it where he says, Unus sustineo tres personas; met, ad- 
versarii, et judicis: I bear three persons; my own, my 
adversary's, and the judge's; and is called in divers oc- 
casions, diversly; as a representer, or representative, a 
lieutenant, a vicar, an attorney, a deputy, a procurator, 
an actor, and the like. 

Of persons artificial, some have their words and ac- 
tions owned by those whom they represent. And then 
the person is the actor; and he that owneth his words 



314 LEVIATHAN 

and actions, is the author : in which case the actor acteth 
by authority. For that which in speaking of goods and 
possessions, is called an owner, and in Latin dominus, in 
Greek xOpto? speaking of actions, is called author. And 
as the right of possession, is called dominion; so the 
right of doing any action, is called authority. So that 
by authority, is always understood a right of doing any 
act ; and done by authority, done by commission, or li- 
cence from him whose right it is. 

From hence it followeth, that when the actor maketh 
a covenant by authority, he bindeth thereby the author, 
no less than if he had made it himself; and no less sub- 
jected him to all the consequences of the same. And 
therefore all 'that hath been said formerly, (chap, xiv) of 
the nature of covenants between man and man in their 
natural capacity, is true also when they are made by 
their actors, representers, or procurators, that have author- 
ity from them, so far forth as is in their commission, 
but no further. 

And therefore he that maketh a covenant with the 
actor, or representer, not knowing the authority he hath, 
doth it at his own peril. For no man is obliged by a 
covenant, whereof he is not author; nor consequently by 
a covenant made against, or beside the authority he gave. 

When the actor doth anything against the law of na- 
ture by command of the author, if he be obliged by for- 
mer covenant to obey him, not he, but the author break- 
eth the law of nature; for though the action be against 
the law of nature; yet it is not his: but contrarily, to 
refuse to do it, is against the law of nature, that forbid- 
deth breach of covenant. 

And he that maketh a covenant with the author, by 
mediation of the actor, not knowing what authority he 
hath, but only takes his word; in case such authority be 



OF PERSONS, AUTHORS, ETC. 315 

not made manifest unto him upon demand, is no longer 
obliged: for the covenant made with the author, is not 
valid, without his counter- assurance. But if he that so 
.covenanteth, knew beforehand he was to expect no other 
assurance, than the actor's word; then is the covenant 
valid; because the actor in this case maketh himself the 
author. And therefore, as when the authority is evident, 
the covenant obligeth the author, not the actor; so when 
the authority is feigned, it obligeth the actor only ; there 
being no author but himself. 

There are few things, that are incapable of being re- 
presented by fiction. Inanimate things, as a church, an 
hospital, a bridge, may be personated by a rector, master, 
or overseer. But things inanimate, cannot be authors, 
nor therefore give authority to their actors : yet the actors 
may have authority to procure their maintenance, given 
them by those that are owners, or governors of those 
things. And therefore, such things cannot be personated, 
before there be some state of civil government. 

Likewise children, fools, and madmen that have no 
use of reason, may be personated by guardians, or cu- 
rators ; but can be no authors, during that time, of any 
action done by them, longer than, when they shall re- 
cover the use of reason, they shall judge the same reas- 
onable. Yet during the folly, he that hath right of govern- 
ing them, may give authority to the guardian. But this 
again has no place but in a state civil, because before 
such estate, there is no dominion of persons. 

An idol, or mere figment of the brain, may be per- 
sonated ; as were the gods of the heathen : which by such 
officers as the state appointed, were personated, and held 
possessions, and other goods, and rights, which men from 
time to time dedicated, and consecrated unto them. But 
idols cannot be authors : for an idol is nothing. The au- 



316 LEVIATHAN 

thority proceeded from the state:' and therefore before 
introduction of civil government, the gods of the heathen 
could not be personated. 

The true God may be personated. As he was; first, 
by Moses; who governed the Israelites, that were not 
his, but God's people, not in his own name, with hoc 
dicit Moses; but in God's name, with hot dicit Dominus. 
Secondly, by the Son of man, his own Son, our blessed 
Saviour Jesus Christ, that came to reduce the Jews, and 
induce all nations into the kingdom of his father; not 
as of himself, but as sent from his father. And thirdly, 
by the Holy Ghost, or Comforter, speaking, and working 
in the Apostles : which Holy Ghost, was a Comforter 
that came not of himself; but was sent, and proceeded 
from them both. 

A multitude of men, are made one person, when they 
are by one man, or one person, represented ; so that it 
be done with the consent of every one of that multitude 
in particular. For it is the unity of the representer, not 
the unity of the represented, that maketh the person one. 
And it is the representer that beareth the person, and 
but one person: and unity, cannot otherwise be under- 
stood in multitude. 

And because the multitude naturally is not one, but 
many; they cannot be understood for one; but many au- 
thors, of every thing their representative saith, or doth 
in their name; every man giving their common repre- 
senter, authority from himself in particular; and owning 
all the actions the representer doth, in case they give 
him authority without stint: otherwise, when they limit 
him in what, and how far he shall represent them, none 
of them owneth more than they gave him commission 
to act. 

And if the representative consist of many men, the 



OF PERSONS, AUTHORS, ETC. 317 

voice of the greater number, must be considered as the 
voice of them all. For if the lesser number pronounce, 
for example, in the affirmative, and the greater in the 
negative, there will be negatives more than enough to 
destroy the affirmatives; and thereby the excess of neg- 
atives, standing uncontradicted, are the only voice the 
representative hath. 

And a representative of even nurriber, especially when 
the number is not great, whereby the contradictory 
voices are oftentimes equal, is therefore oftentimes mute, 
and incapable of action. Yet in some cases contradic- 
tory voices equal in number, may determine a question; 
as in condemning, or absolving, equality of votes, even 
in that they, condemn not, do absolve ; but not on the 
contrary condemn, in that they absolve not. For when 
a cause is heard; not to condemn, is to absolve: but on 
the contrary, to say that not absolving, is condemning, 
is not true. The like it is in a deliberation of executing 
presently, or deferring till another time: for when the 
voices are equal, the not decreeing execution, is a decree 
of dilation. 

Or if the number be odd, as three, or more, men or 
assemblies; whereof every one has by a negative voice, 
authority to take away the effect of all the affirmative 
voices of the rest, this number is no representative; be- 
cause by the diversity of opinions, and interests of men, 
it becomes oftentimes, and in cases of the greatest conse- 
quence, a mute person, and unapt, as for many things 
else, so for the government of a multitude, especially 
in time of war. 

Of authors there be two sorts. The first simply so 
called ; which I have before defined to be him, that own- 
eth the action of another simply. The second is he, that 
owneth an action, or covenant of another conditionally; 



3t& LEVIATHAN 

that is to say, he undertaketh to do it, if the other doth it 
not, at, or before a certain time. And these authors con- 
ditional, are generally sailed sureties, in Latin, fidejus- 
sor es, and sponsores; and particularly for debt, praedes; 
and for appearance before a judge, or magistrate, vades. 



PART II. 

OF COMMONWEALTH. 



CHAPTER XVII. 

OF THE CAUSES, GENERATION, AND DEFINITION OF A 
COMMONWEALTH. 

The final cause, end, or design of men, who naturally 
love liberty, and dominion over others, in the introduction 
of that restraint upon themselves, in which we see them 
live in commonwealths, is the foresight of their own pres- 
ervation, and of a more contented life thereby; that is 
to say, of getting themselves out from that miserable 
condition of war, which is necessarily consequent, as hath 
been shown in chapter xiii, to the natural passions of 
men, when there is no visible power to keep them in awe, 
and tie them by fear of punishment to the performance 
of their covenants, and observation of those laws of nature 
set down in the fourteenth and fifteenth chapters. 

For the laws of nature, as justice, equity, modesty, 
mercy, and, in sum, doing to others, as we would be 
done to, of themselves, without the terror of some power, 
to cause them to be observed, are contrary to our natural 
passions, that carry us to partiality, pride, revenge, and 
the like. And covenants, without the sword, are but 
words, and of no strength to secure a man at all. There- 
fore notwithstanding the laws of nature, which every one 
hath then kept, when he has the will to keep them, when 
he can do it safely, if there be no power erected, or not 
great enough for our security; every man will, and may 
lawfully rely on his own strength and art, for caution 



320 LEVIATHAN 

against all other men. And in all places, where men have 
lived by small families, to rob and spoil one another, 
has been a trade, and so far from being reputed against 
the law of nature, that the greater spoils they gained, 
the greater was their honour ; and men observed no other 
laws therein, but the laws of honour; that is, to abstain 
from cruelty, leaving to men their lives, and instruments 
of husbandry. And as small families did then ; so now do 
cities and kingdoms which are but greater families, for 
their own security, enlarge their dominions, upon all 
pretences of danger, and fear of invasion, or assistance 
that may be given to invaders, and endeavour as much 
as they can, to subdue, or weaken their neighbours, by 
open force, and secret arts, for want of other caution, 
justly; and are remembered for it in after ages with hon- 
our. 

Nor is it the joining together of a small number of 
men, that gives them this security; because in small 
numbers, small additions on the one side or the other, 
make the advantage of strength so great, as is sufficient 
to carry the victory; and therefore gives encouragement 
to an invasion. The multitude sufficient to confide in for 
our security, is not determined by any certain number, 
but by comparison with the enemy we fear; and is then 
sufficient, when the odds of the enemy is not of so visible 
and conspicuous moment, to determine the event of war, 
as to move him to attempt. 

And be there never so great a multitude; yet if 
their actions be directed according to their particular 
judgments, and particular appetites, they can expect there- 
by no defence, nor protection, neither against a common 
enemy, nor against the injuries of one another. For be- 
ing distracted in opinions concerning the best use and 
application of their strength, they do not help but hinder 



CAUSES, ETC. OF A COMMONWEALTH 321 

one another; and reduce their strength by mutual oppo- 
sition to nothing : whereby they are easily, not only sub- 
dued by a very few that agree together ; but also when there 
is no common enemy, they make war upon each other, 
for their particular interests. For if we could suppose a 
great multitude of men to consent in the observation of 
justice, and other laws of nature, without a common 
power to keep them all in awe; we might as well suppose 
all mankind to do the same ; and then there neither would 
be, nor need to be any civil government, or commonwealth 
at all; because there would be peace without subjection. 

Nor is it enough for the security, which men desire 
should last all the time of their life, that they be governed, 
and directed by one judgment, for a limited timej as in 
one battle, or one war. For though they obtain a vic- 
tory by their unanimous endeavour against a foreign ene- 
my; yet afterwards, when either they have no common 
enemy, or he that by one part is held for an enemy, is by 
another part held for a friend, they must needs by the 
difference of their interests dissolve, and fall again into 
a war amongst themselves. 

It is true, that certain living creatures, as bees, and 
ants, live sociably one with another, which are therefore 
by Aristotle numbered amongst political creatures; and 
yet have no other direction, than their particular judg- 
ments and appetites ; nor speech, whereby one of them can 
signify to another, what he thinks expedient for the 
common benefit: and therefore some man may perhaps 
desire to know, why mankind cannot do the same. To 
which I answer, 

First, that men are continually in competition for 
honour and dignity, which these creatures are not; and 
consequently amongst men there ariseth on that ground, 
envy and hatred, and finally war; but amongst these not so. 



322 LEVIATHAN 

Secondly, that amongst these creatures, the common 
good differeth not from the private ; and being by nature 
inclined to their private, they procure thereby the com- 
mon benefit. But man, whose joy consisteth in compar- 
ing himself with other men, can relish nothing but what is 
eminent. 

Thirdly, that these creatures, having not, as man, the 
use of reason, do not see, nor think they see any fault, 
in the administration of their common business; whereas 
amongst men, there are very many, that think them- 
selves wiser, and abler to govern the public, better than 
the rest; and these strive to reform and innovate, one 
this way, another that way ; and thereby bring it into dis- 
traction and civil war. 

Fourthly, that these creatures, though they have some 
use of voice, in making known to one another their 
desires, and other affections ; yet they want that art of 
words, by which some men can represent to others, that 
which is good, in the likeness of evil; and evil, in the 
likeness of good ; and augment, or diminish the apparent 
greatness of good and evil ; discontenting men, and troub- 
ling their peace at their pleasure. 

Fifthly, irrational creatures cannot distinguish be- 
tween injury, and damage; and therefore as long as they 
be at ease, they are not offended with their fellows: 
whereas man is then most troublesome, when he is most 
at ease : for then it is that he loves to shew his wisdom, 
and control the actions of them that govern the common- 
wealth. 

Lastly, the agreement of these creatures is natural; 
that of men, is by covenant only, which is artificial : and 
therefore it is no wonder if there be somewhat else re- 
quired, besides covenant, to make their agreement con- 
stant and lasting ; which is a common power, to keep them 



CAUSES, ETC. OF A COMMONWEALTH 323 

in awe, and to direct their actions to the common benefit. 
The only way to erect such a common power, as may 
be able to defend them from the invasion of foreigners, 
and the injuries of one another, and thereby to secure them 
in such sort, as that by their own industry, and by the 
fruits of the earth, they may nourish themselves and live 
contentedly; is, to confer all their power and strength 
upon one man, or upon one assembly of men, that may 
reduce all their wills, by plurality of voices, unto one 
will : which is as much as to say, to appoint one man, or 
assembly of men, to bear their person ; and every one to 
own, and acknowledge himself to be author of whatsoever 
he that so beareth their person, shall act, or cause to be 
acted, in those things which concern the common peace 
and safety; and therein to submit their wills, every one 
to his will, and their judgments, to his judgment. This 
is more than consent, or concord; it is a real unity of 
them all, in one and the same person, made by covenant 
of every man with every man, in such manner, as if every 
man should say to every man, / authorize and give up 
my right of governing myself, to this man, or to this as- 
sembly of men, on this condition,, that thou give up thy 
right to him, and authorise all his actions in like manner. 
This done/the multitude so united in one person, is called 
a commonwealth, in Latin ci vitas. This is the gener- 
ation of that great leviathan, or rather, to speak more 
reverently, of-rhat mortal god, to which we owe under 
the immortal God, our peace and defence. For by this 
authority, given him by every particular man in the com- 
monwealth, he hath the use of so much power and strength 
conferred on him, that by terror thereof, he is enabled to 
perform the wills of them all, to peace at home, and mu- 
tual aid against their enemies abroad. And in him con- 
sisted! the essence of the commonwealth ; which, to de- 



324 LEVIATHAN 

fine it, is one person, of zvhose acts a great multitude, by 
mutual covenants one zvith another, have made them- 
selves every one the author, to the end he may use the 
strength and means of them all, as he shall think exped- 
ient, for their peace and common defence. 

And he that carrieth this person, is called sovereign, 
and said to have sovereign power; and every one besides, 

his SUBJECT. 

The attaining to this sovereign power, is by two ways. 
One, by natural force ; as when a man maketh his child- 
ren, to submit themselves, and their children to his gov- 
ernment, as being able to destroy them if they refuse; 
or by war subdueth his enemies to his will, giving them 
their lives on that condition. The other, is when men 
agree amongst themselves, to submit to some man, or 
assembly of men, voluntarily, on confidence to be protected 
by him against all others. This latter, may be called a 
political commonwealth, or commonwealth by institution; 
and the former, a commonwealth by acquisition. And 
first, I shall speak of a commonwealth by institution. 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

OF THE RIGHTS OF SOVEREIGNS BY INSTITUTION. 

A commonwealth is said to be instituted, when a mul- 
titude of men do agree, and covenant, every one, with ev- 
ery one, that to whatsoever man, or assembly of men, shall 
be given by the major part, the right to present the person 
of them all, that is to say, to be their representative ; every 
one, as well he that voted for it, as he that voted against 
it, shall authorize all the actions and judgments, of 
that man, or assembly of men, in the same manner, as if 
they were his own, to the end,to live peaceably amongst 
themselves, and be protected against other men. 

From this institution of a commonwealth are derived 
all the rights, and faculties of him, or them, on whom 
sovereign power is conferred by the consent of the peo- 
ple assembled. 

First, because they covenant, it is to be understood, 
they are not obliged by former covenant to anything re- 
pugnant hereunto. And consequently they that have al- 
ready instituted a commonwealth, being thereby bound 
by covenant, to own the actions, and judgments of one, 
cannot lawfully make a new covenant, amongst them- 
selves, to be obedient to any other, in any thing whatso- 
ever, without his permission. And therefore, they that 
are subjects to a monarch, cannot without his leave cast 
off monarchy, and return to the confusion of a disunited 
multitude ; nor transfer their person from him that bear- 
eth it, to another man, or other assembly of men : for 
they are bound, every man to every man, to own, and 
be reputed author of all, that he that already is their sov- 
ereign, shall do, and judge fit to be done: so that any one 



326 LEVIATHAN 

man dissenting, all the rest should break their covenant 
made to that man, which is injustice: and they have also 
every man given the sovereignty to him that beareth their 
person ; and therefore if they depose him, they take from 
him that which is his own, and so again it is injustice. 
Besides, if he that attempteth to depose his sovereign, be 
killed, or punished by him for such attempt, he is author 
of his own punishment, as being by the institution, author 
of all his sovereign shall do: and because it is injustice 
for a man to do anything, for which he may be punished 
by his own authority, he is also upon that title, unjust. 
And whereas some men have pretended for their disobed- 
ience to their sovereign, a new covenant, made, not with 
men, but with God; this also is unjust: for there is no 
covenant with God, but by mediation of somebody that 
representeth God's person; which none doth but God's 
lieutenant, who hath the sovereignty under God. But 
this pretence of covenant with God, is so evident a lie, 
even in the pretenders' own consciences, that it is not 
only an act of an unjust, but also of a vile and unmanly 
disposition. 1 



'Compare Philosophical Rudiments, (M. II, 106). "We 
have seen how subjects, nature dictating, have obliged themselves 
by mutual compacts to obey the supreme power. We will see 
now by what means it comes to pass, that they arc released 
from these bonds of obedience. And first of all, this happens 
by rejection, namely, if a man cast off or forsake, but convev 
not the right of his command on some other. For what is thus 
rejected, is openly exposed to all alike, catch who catch can; 
whence again, by the right of nature, every subject may heed 
the preservation of himself according to his own judgment. In 
the second place, if the kingdom fall into the power of the enemy, 
so as there can no more opposition be made against them, we 
must understand that he who before had the supreme authority, 
hath now lost it: for when the subjects have done their full en- 
deavour to prevent their falling into the enemy's hands, they have 
fulfilled those contracts of obedience which they made each with 
other; and what, being conquered, they promise afterwards to 



RIGHTS OF SOVEREIGNS 327 

Secondly, because the right of bearing the person of 
them all, is given to him they make sovereign, by cov- 
enant only of one to another, and not of him to any of 
them ; there can happen no breach of covenant on the 
part of the sovereign ; and consequently none of his sub- 
jects, by any pretence of forfeiture, can be freed from 
his subjection. That he which is made sovereign maketh 
no covenant with his subjects beforehand, is manifest; be- 
cause either he must make it with the whole multitude, as 
one party to the covenant ; or he must make a several 
covenant with every man. With_the whole, as one party, 



avoid death, they must with no less endeavour labour to per- 
form. Thirdly, in a monarchy, (for a democracy and aristocracy 
cannot fail), if there be no successor, all the subjects are dis- 
charged from their obligations; for no man is supposed to be 
tied he knows not to whom; for in such a case it were impos- 
sible to perform aught. And by these three ways, all subjects 
are restored from their civil subjection to that liberty which all 
men have to all things ; to wit, natural and savage ; for the nat- 
ural state hath the same proportion to the civil, (I mean, liberty 
to subjection), which passion hath to reason, or a beast to a 
man. Furthermore, each subject may lawfully be freed from his 
subjection by the will of him who hath the supreme power, name- 
ly, if he change his soil ; which may be done two ways, either by 
permission, as he who gets license to dwell in another country; 
or command, as he who is banished. In both cases, he is free 
from the laws of his former country ; because he is tied to 
observe those of the latter." Also Leviathan, (M. Ill, 208). 
"The obligation of subjects to the sovereign, is understood to last 
as long, and no longer, than the power lasteth, by which he b 
able to protect them. For the right men have by nature to pro- 
tect themselves, when none else can protect them, can by no 
covenant be relinquished. The sovereignty is the soul of the 
commonwealth ; which once departed from the body, the mem- 
bers do no more receive their motion from it. The end of obe- 
dience is protection; which, wheresoever a man seeth it, either in 
his own, or in another's sword, nature applieth his obedience to 
it, and his endeavour to maintain it. And though sovereignty, 
in the intention of them that make it, be immortal; yet is it 
in its own nature, not only subject to violent death, by foreign 
war; but also through the ignorance, and passions of men, it hath 
in it, from the very institution, many seeds of a natural mortality, 
by intestine discord." 



328 LEVIATHAN 

it is impassible ; because as yet they are not one person : 
and if he make so many several covenants as there be 
men, those covenants after he hath the sovereignty are 
void; because what act soever can be pretended by any 
one of them for breach thereof, is the act both of him- 
self, and of all the rest, because done in the person, and 
by the right of every one of them in particular. Be- 
sides, if any one, or more of them, pretend a breach of 
the covenant made by the sovereign at his institution ; and 
others, or one other of his subjects, or himself alone, 
pretend there was no such breach, there is in this case, 
no judge to decide the controversy; it returns therefore 
to the sword again ; and every man recovereth the right 
of protecting himself by his own strength, contrary to 
the design they had in the institution. It is therefore 
in vain to grant sovereignty by way of precedent covenant. 
The opinion that any monarch receiveth his power by 
covenant, that is to say, on condition, proceedeth from 
want of understanding this easy truth, that covenants 
being but words and breath, have no force to oblige,_con- 
tain, constrain, or protect any man, but what it has from 
the public sword ; that is, from the untied hands of that 
man, or assembly of men that hath the sovereignty, and 
whose actions are avouched by them all, and performed 
by the strength of them all, in him united. But when an 
assembly of men is made sovereign; then no man im- 
agineth any such covenant to have passed in the institu- 
tion; for no man is so dull as to say, for example, the 
people of Rome made a covenant with the Romans, to hold 
the sovereignty on such or such conditions; which not 
performed, the Romans might lawfully depose the Roman 
people. That men see not the reason to be alike in a 
monarchy, and in a popular government, proceedeth from 
the ambition of some, that are kinder to the government 



RIGHTS OF SOVEREIGNS 329 

of an assembly, whereof they may hope to participate, 
than of monarchy, which they despair to enjoy. 2 



"Compare Philosophical Rudiments, (M. II, 89). "Foras- 
much as the supreme command is constituted by virtue of the 
compacts which each single citizen or subject mutually makes 
with the other ; but all contracts, as they receive their force from 
the contractors, so by their consent they lose it again and are 
broken : perhaps some may infer hence, that by the consent of 
all the subjects together the supreme authority may be wholly 
taken away. Which inference, if it were true, I cannot discern 
what danger would thence by right arise to the supreme com- 
manders. For since it is supposed that each one hath oblieed 
himself to each other; if any one of them shall refuse, what- 
soever the rest shall agree to do, he is bound notwithstanding. 
Neither can any man without injury to me, do that which by 
contract made with me he hath obliged himself not to do. But it 
is not to be imagined that ever it will happen, that all the subjects 
together, not so much as one excepted, will combine against the 
supreme power. Wherefore there is no fear for rulers in chief, 
that by any right they can be despoiled of their authority. If, 
notwithstanding, it were granted that their right depended only 
on that contract which each man makes with his fellow-citizen, 
it might very easily happen that they might be robbed of that 
dominion under pretence of right. For subjects being called 
either by the command of the city, or seditiously flocking togeth- 
er, most men think that the consents of all are contained in 
the votes of the greater part ; which in truth is false. For it is 
not from nature that the consent of the major part should be 
received for the consent of all, neither is it true in tumults ; but 
it proceeds from civil institution: and is then only true, when 
that man or court which hath the supreme power, assembling 
his subjects, by reason of the greatness of their number allows 
those that are elected a power of speaking for those who elected 
them; and will have the major part of voices, in such matters 
as are by him propounded to be discussed, to be as effectual 
as the whole. But we cannot imagine that he who is chief, ever 
convened his subjects with intention that they should dispute his 
right ; unless weary of the burthen of his charge, he declared in 
plain terms that he renounces and abandons his government. 
Now because most men through ignorance esteem not the con- 
sent of the major part of citizens only, but even of a very few, 
provided they be of their opinion, for the consent of the whole 
city; it may very well seem to them, that the supreme authority 
may by right be abrogated, so it be done in some great assembly 
of citizens by the votes of the greater number. But though a 
government be constituted by the contracts of particular men 
with particulars, yet its right depends not on that obligation 



330 LEVIATHAN 

Thirdly, because the major part hath by consenting 
voices declared a sovereign ; he that dissented must now 
consent with the rest; that is, be contented to avow all 
the actions he shall do, or else justly be destroyed by the 
rest. For if he voluntarily entered into the congregation 
of them that were assembled, he sufficiently declared there- 
by his will, and therefore tacitly covenanted, to stand 
to what the major part should ordain: and therefore if 
he refuse to stand thereto, or make protestation against 
any of their decrees, he does contrary to his covenant, 
and therefore unjustly. And whether he be of the con- 
gregation, or not; and whether his consent be asked, 
or not, he must either submit to their decrees, or be 
left in the condition of war he was in before; where- 
in he might without injustice be destroyed by any man 
whatsoever. 

Fourthly, because every subject is by this institution 
author of all the actions, and judgments of the sovereign 
instituted ; it follows, that whatsoever he doth, it can be 
no injury to any of his subjects: nor ought he to be by 



only ; there is another tie also towards him who commands. For 
each citizen compacting with his fellow, says thus: / convey 
my right on this party, upon condition that you pass yours to 
the same: by which means, that right which every man had be- 
fore to use his faculties to his own advantage, is now wholly 
translated on some certain man or council for the common ben- 
efit. Wherefore what by the mutual contracts each one hath 
made with the other, what by the donation of right which every 
man is bound to ratify to him that commands, the government 
is upheld by a double obligation from the citizens; first, that 
which is due to their- fellow citizens; next, that which they 
owe to their prince. Wherefore no subjects, how many soever 
they be, can with any right despoil him who bears the chief rule 
of his authority, without his own consent." The Molesworth 
edition reads, ''even without his own consent." This makes 
the final sentence of the extract meaningless, and is evidently 
the result of a mistranslation of the words of the De Cive: "Non 
ergo cives, quotcunque fuerint, sine consensu etiam ipsius im- 
perantis, eum spoliare imperio jure possunt." 



RIGHTS OF SOVEREIGNS 331 

any of them accused of injustice. For he that doth any- 
thing by authority from another, doth therein no injury 
to him by whose authority he acteth : but by this institu- 
tion of a commonwealth, every particular man is author 
of all the sovereign doth : and consequently he that com- 
plaineth of injury from his sovereign, complaineth of that 
whereof he himself is author ; and therefore ought not to 
accuse any man but himself; no nor himself of injury; 
because to do injury to one's self, is impossible. It is true 
that they that have sovereign power may commit ini- 
quity, but not injustice, or injury in the proper significa- 
tion. 3 



3 Compare Philosophical Rudiments, (M. II, 101). "Because 
* * * * they who have gotten the supreme command, 
are by no compacts obliged to any man, it necessarily follows, 
that they can do no injury to the subjects. For injury * * * * 
is nothing else but a breach of contract; and therefore where 
no contract? have part, there can be no injury. Yet the people, 
the nobles, and the monarch may diverse ways transgress against 
the other laws of nature, as by cruelty, iniquity, contumely, and 
other like vices, which come not under this strict and exact 
notion of injury. But if the subject yield not obedience to the 
supreme, he will in propriety of speech be said to be injurious. 
as well to his fellow-subjects, because each man hath compacted 
with the other to obey; as to his chief ruler, in resuming that 
right which he hath given him, without his consent. And in 
a democracy or aristocracy, if anything be decreed against any 
law of nature, the city itself, that is, the civil person sins not, 
but those subjects only by whose votes it was decreed; for sin 
is a consequence of the natural express will, not of the political, 
which is artificial. For if it were otherwise, they would be guilty 
by whom the decree was absolutely disliked. But in a monarchy, 
if the monarch make any decree gainst the laws of nature, he 
sins himself ; because in him the civil will and the natural are 
all one." Also De Corpore Politico, (M. IV, 140). "How unjust 
soever the action be, that this sovereign demus shall do, is done 
by the will of every particular man subject to him, who are 
therefore guilty of the same. If therefore they style it injury, 
they but accuse themselves. And it is against reason for the same 
man, both to do and complain ; implying this contradiction, that 
whereas he first ratified the people's acts in general, he now dis- 
alloweth the same of them in particular. It is therefore said 
truly, volenti non fit injuria. Nevertheless nothing doth hinder, 



332 LEVIATHAN 

Fifthly, and consequently to that which was said last, 
no man that hath sovereign power can justly be put to 
death, or otherwise in any manner by his subjects pun- 
ished. For seeing every subject is author of the actions 
of his sovereign; he punisheth another for the actions 
committed by himself.* 



but that divers actions done by the people, may be unjust before 
God Almighty, as breaches of the laws of nature." 

'Compare Philosophical Rudiments, (M. II, 153). "A city 
can neither be bound to itself, nor to any subject; not to itself, 
because no man can be obliged except it be to another; not to 
any subject, because the single wills of the subjects are con- 
tained in the will of the city; insomuch that if the city will be 
free from all such obligation, the subjects will so too; and by 
consequence she is so. But that which holds true in a city, that 
must be supposed to be true in a man, or an assembly of men 
who have the supreme authority; for they make a city, which 
hath no being but by their supreme power. Now that this opin- 
ion cannot consist with the very being of government, is evident 
from hence; that by it the knowledge of what is good and evil, 
that is to say, the definition of what is, and what is not against 
the laws, would return to each single person. Obedience therefore 
will cease, as oft as anything seems to be commanded contrary 
to the civil laws, and together with it all coercive jurisdiction; 
which cannot possibly be without the destruction of the very 
essence of government. Yet this error hath great props, Aris- 
totle and others; who, by reason of human infirmity, suppose 
the supreme power to be committed with most security to the 
laws only. But they seem to have looked very shallowly into 
the nature of government, who thought that the constraining 
power, the interpretation of laws, and the making of laws, all 
which are powers necessarily belonging to government, should 
be left wholly to the laws themselves. Now although particular 
subjects may sometimes contend in judgment, and go to law 
with the supreme magistrate; yet this is only then, when the 
question is not what the magistrate may, but what by a certain 
rule he hath declared he would do. As, when by any law the 
judges sit upon the life of a subject, the question is not whether 
the magistrate could by his absolute right deprive him of his 
life; but whether by that law his will was that he should be 
deprived of it. But his will was, he should, if he brake the law ; 
else his will was, he should not. This therefore, that a subject 
may have an action of law against his supreme magistrate, is not 
strength of argument sufficient to prove, that he is tied to his 
own laws. On the contrary, it is evident that he is not tied 
to his own laws ; because no man is bound to himself. Laws 



RIGHTS OF SOVEREIGNS 333 

And because the end of this institution, is the peace 
and defence of them all ; and whosoever has right to the 
end, has right to the means; it belongeth of right, to 
whatsoever man, or assembly that hath the sovereignty, 
to be judge both of the means of peace and defence, and 
also of the hindrances, and disturbances of the same ; and 
to do whatsoever he shall think necessary to be done, 
both beforehand, for the preserving of peace and secur- 
ity, by prevention of discord at home, and hostility from 
abroad; and, when peace and security are lost, for the 
recovery of the same. And therefore, 

Sixthly, it is annexed to the sovereignty, to be judge 
of what opinions and doctrines are averse, and what 
conducing to peace ; and consequently, on what occasions, 
how far, and what men are tc be trusted withal, in speak- 
ing to multitudes of people ; and who shall examine the 
doctrines of all books before they be published. For the 
actions of men proceed from their opinions; and in the 
well-governing of opinions, consisteth the well-governing 
of men's actions, in order to their peace, and concord. 
And though in matter of doctrine, nothing ought to be 
regarded but the truth ; yet this is not repugnant to regu- 
lating the same by peace. For doctrine repugnant to 

therefore are set for Titius and Caius, not for the ruler. How- 
ever, by the ambition of lawyers it is so ordered, that the laws 
to unskilful men seem not to depend on the authority of the 
magistrate, but there prudence." Also Leviathan, (M. Ill, 312). 
An "opinion repugnant to the nature of a commonwealth, is this, 
that he that hath the sovereign power is subject to the civil laws. 
It is true, that sovereigns are all subject to the laws of nature; 
because such laws be divine, and cannot by any man, or com- 
monwealth be abrogated. But to those laws which the sovereign 
himself, thatj is, which the commonwealth maketh, he is not 
subject. For to be subject to laws, is to be subject to the com- 
monwealth, that is to the sovereign representative, that is to him- 
self ; which is not subjection, but freedom from the laws. Which 
error, because it setteth the laws above the sovereign, setteth 
also a judge above him, and a power to punish him; which is 



334 LEVIATHAN 

peace, can no more be true, than peace and concord can 
be against the law of nature. It is true, that in a common- 
wealth, where by the negligence, or unskilfulness of 
governors, and teachers, false doctrines are by time gen- 
erally received ; the contrary truths may be generally of- 
fensive. Yet the most sudden, and rough bursting in of 
a new truth, that can be, does never break the peace, 
but only sometimes awake the war. For those men that 
are so remissly governed, that they dare take up arms to 
defend, or introduce an opinion, are still in war; and 
their condition not peace, but only a cessation of arms for 
fear of one another ; and they live, as it were, in the pre- 
cincts of battle continually. It belongeth therefore to him 
that hath the sovereign power, to be judge, or constitute 
all judges of opinions and doctrines, as a thing necessary 
to peace ; thereby to prevent discord and civil war. 

Seventhly, is annexed to the sovereignty, the whole 
power of prescribing the rules, whereby every man may 
know, what goods he may enjoy, and what actions he may 
do, without being molested by any of his fellow-subjects ; 
and this is it men call propriety. For before constitution 
of sovereign power, as hath already been shown, all men 
had right to all things ; which necessarily causeth war : 
and therefore this propriety, being necessary to peace, 
and depending on sovereign power, is the act of that 
power, in order to the public peace. These rules of pro- 
priety, or menm and tuum, and of good, evil, lawful, and 
unlawful in the actions of subjects, are the civil laws; 
that is to say, the laws of each commonwealth in particu- 
lar ; though the name of civil law be now restrained to 
the ancient civil laws of the city of Rome; which being 



to make a new sovereign ; and again for the same reason a third, 
to punish the second; and so continually without end, to the 
confusion, and dissolution of the commonwealth." 



RIGHTS OF SOVEREIGNS 33$ 

the head of a great part of the world, her laws at that 
time were in these parts the civil law. 

Eighthly, is annexed to the sovereignty, the right of 
judicature; that is to say, of hearing and deciding all 
controversies, which may arise concerning law, either 
civil, or natural; or concerning fact. For without the 
decision of controversies, there is no protection of one 
subject, against the injuries of another; the laws con- 
cerning meum and tuum are in vain; and to every man 
remaineth, from the natural and necessary appetite of 
his own conservation, the right of protecting himself by 
his private strength, which is the condition of war, and 
contrary to the end for which every commonwealth is 
instituted. 

Ninthly, is annexed to the sovereignty, the right of 
making war and peace with other nations, and common- 
wealths; that is to say, of judging when it is for the 
public good, and how great forces are to be assembled, 
armed, and paid for that end; and to levy money upon 
the subjects, to defray the expenses thereof. For the 
power by which the people are to be^defended, consist- 
em in their armies ; and the strength of an army, in the 
union of their strength under one command ; which com- 
mand the sovereign instituted, therefore hath ; because 
the command of the militia, without other institution, mak- 
eth him that hath it sovereign. And therefore whosoever 
is made general of an army, he that hath the sovereign 
power is always generalissimo. 

Tenthly, is annexed to the sovereignty, the choosing 
of all counsellors, ministers, magistrates, and officers, 
both in peace and war. For seeing the sovereign is 
charged with the end, which is the common peace and 
.defense, he is understood to have power to use such means, 
as he shall think most fit for his discharge. 



3J6 LEVIATHAN 

Eleventhly, to the sovereign is committed the power 
of rewarding with riches, or honour, and of punishing 
with corporal or pecuniary punishment, or with ignominy, 
every subject according to the law he hath formerly made; 
or if there be no law made, according as he shall judge 
most to conduce to the encouraging of men to serve the 
commonwealth, or deterring of them from doing dis- 
service to the same. 

Lastly, considering what value men are naturally apt 
to set upon themselves ; what respect they look for from 
others ; and how little they value other men ; from whence 
continually arise amongst them, emulation, quarrels, fac- 
tions, and at last war, to the destroying of one another, 
and diminution of their strength against a common ene- 
my; it is necessary that there be laws of honour, and a 
public rate of the worth of such men as have deserved, 
or are able to deserve well of the commonwealth; and 
that there be force in the hands of some or other, to put 
those laws in execution. But it hath already been shown, 
that not only the whole militia, or forces of the common- 
wealth ; but also the judicature of all controversies, is an- 
nexed to the sovereignty. To the sovereign therefore it 
belongeth also to give titles of honour; and to appoint 
what order of place, and dignity, each man shall hold; 
and what signs of respect, in public or private meetings, 
they shall give to one another. 

These are the rights, which make the essence of sov- 
ereignty; and which are the marks, whereby a man may 
discern in what man, or assembly of men, the sovereign 
power is placed, and resideth. For these are incommun- 
icable, and inseparable. The power to coin money ; to dis- 
pose of the estate and persons of infant heirs; to have 
preemption in markets ; and all other statute prerogatives, 
may be transferred by the sovereign ; and yet the power 



RIGHTS OF SOVEREIGNS 337 

to protect his subjects be retained. But if he transfer 
the militia, he retains the judicature in vain, for want of 
execution of the laws : or if he grant away the power of 
raising money ; the militia is in vain ; or if he give away 
the government of doctrines, men will be frighted into 
rebellion with the fear of spirits. And so if we consider 
any one of the said rights, we shall presently see, that 
the holding of all the rest will produce no effect, in the 
conservation of peace and justice, the end for which all 
commonwealths are instituted. And this division is it, 
whereof it is said, a kingdom divided in itself cannot 
stand: for unless this division precede, division into op- 
posite armies can never happen. If there had not first 
been an opinion received of the greatest part of England, 
that these powers were divided between the King, and 
the Lords, and the House of Commons, the people had 
never been divided and fallen into this civil war; first 
between those that disagreed in politics; and after be- 
tween the dissenters about the liberty of religion; which 
have so instructed men in this point of sovereign right, 
that there be few now in England that do not see, that 
these rights are inseparable, and will be so generally ac- 
knowledged at the next return of peace * and so continue, 
till their miseries are forgotten; and no longer, except 
the vulgar be better taught than they have hitherto been. 
And because they are essential and inseparable rights, 
it follows necessarily, that in whatsoever words any of 
them seem to be granted away, yet if the sovereign power 
itself be not in direct terms renounced, and the name of 
sovereign no more given by the grantees to him that 
grants them, the grant is void : for when he has granted 
all he can, if we grant back the sovereignty, all is re- 
stored, as inseparably annexed thereunto. 
This great authority being indivisible, and inseparably 



338 LEVIATHAN 

annexed to the sovereignty, there is little ground for the 
opinion of them, that say of sovereign kings, though they 
be singulis ma j ores, of greater power than every one of 
their subjects, yet they be universis minor es, of less power 
than them all together. For if by all together, they mean 
not the collective body as one person, then all together, 
and every one, signify the same ; and the speech is absurd. 
But if by all together, they understand them as one per- 
son, which person the sovereign bears, then the power of 
all together, is the same with the sovereign's power ; and 
so again the speech is absurd : which absurdity they see 
well enough, when the sovereignty is in an assembly of 
the people ; but in a monarch they see it not ; and yet the 
power of sovereignty is the same in whomsoever it be 
placed. 5 



8 Compare Philosophical Rudiments, (M. II, 80 n.). "A pop- 
ular state openly challengeth absolute dominion, and the citizens 
oppose it not. For, in the gathering together of many men, they 
acknowledge the face of a city; and even the unskilful under- 
stand, that matters there are ruled by council. Yet monarchy 
is no less a city than democracy ; and absolute kings have their 
counsellors, from whom they will take advice, and suffer their 
power, in matters of greater consequence, to be guided but not 
recalled. But it appears not to most men, how a city is con- 
tained in the person of a king. And therefore they object against 
absolute command : first, that if any man had such a right, the 
condition of the citizens would be miserable. For thus they 
think; he will take all, spoil all, kill all; and every man counts 
it his only happiness, that he is not already spoiled and killed. 
But why should he do thus ? Not because he can ; for unless 
he have mind to it, he will not do it. Will he, to please one 
or some few, spoil all the rest? First, though by right, that is, 
without injury to them, he may do it, yet can he not dp it 
justly, that is, without breach of the natural laws and injury 
against God. And therefore there is some security for sub- 
jects in the oaths which princes take. Next, if he could justly 
do it, or that he made no account of his oath, yet appears there 
no reason why he should desire it, since he finds no good in it. 
But it cannot be denied, but a prince may sometimes have an 
inclination to do wickedly. But grant then, that thou hadst 
given him a power which were not absolute, but so much only as 



RIGHTS OF SOVEREIGNS 339 

And as the power, so also the honour of the sovereign, 
ought to be greater, than that of any, or all the subjects. 
For in the sovereignty is the fountain of honour. The dig- 
nities of lord, earl, duke, and prince are his creatures. As 
in the presence of the master, the servants are equal, and 
without any honour at all ; so are the subjects, in the pres- 
ence of the sovereign. And though they shine some more, 
some less, when they are out of his sight; yet in his pres- 
ence, they shine no more than the stars in the presence 
of the sun. 

But a man may here object, that the condition of sub- 
jects is very miserable; as being obnoxious to the lusts, 



sufficed to defend thee from the injuries of others; which, if thou 
wilt be safe, is necessary for thee to give; are not all the same 
things to be feared? For he that hath strength enough to pro- 
tect all, wants not sufficiency to oppress all. Here is no other 
difficulty then, but that human affairs cannot be without some 
inconvenience. And this inconvenience itself is in the citizens, 
not in the government. For if men could rule themselves, every 
man by his own command, that is to say, could they live accord- 
ing to the laws of nature, there would be no need at all of a 
city, nor of a common coercive power. Secondly, they object, 
that there is no dominion in the Christian world absolute. 
Which, indeed, is not true ; for all monarchies, and all other 
states, are so. For although they who have the chief command, 
do not all those things they would, and what they know profit- 
able to the city; the reason of that is, not the defect of right 
in them, but the consideration of their citizens, who busied about 
their private interest, and careless of what tends to the public, 
cannot sometimes be drawn to perform their duties without the 
hazard of the city. Wherefore princes sometimes forbear the 
exercise of their right ; and prudently remit somewhat of the 
act, but nothing of their right." On the rights of sovereignty 
by acquisition compare Leviathan, (M. Ill, 186). "But the 
rights, and consequences of sovereignty, are the same in both. 
His power cannot, without his consent, be transferred to an- 
other : he cannot forfeit it : he cannot be accused by any of 
his subjects, of injury: he cannot be punished by them: he is 
judge of what is necessary for peace; and judge of doctrines: 
he is sole legislator; and supreme judge of controversies; and of 
the times, and occasions of war, and peace: to him it belongeth 
to choose magistrates, counsellors, commanders, and all other 



340 LEVIATHAN 

and other irregular passions of him, or them that have 
so unlimited a power in their hands. And commonly they 
that live under a monarch, think it the fault of monar- 
chy ; and they that live under the government of democ- 
racy, or other sovereign assembly, attribute all the in- 
convenience to that form of commonwealth ; whereas the 
power in all forms, if they be perfect enough to protect 
them, is the same : not considering that the state of man 
can never be without some incommodity or other; and 
that the greatest, that in any form of government can 
possibly happen to the people in general, is scarce sen- 
sible, in respect to the miseries, and horrible calamities, 
that accompany a civil war, or that dissolute condition 
of masterless men, without subjection to laws, and a co- 
ercive power to tie their hands from rapine and revenge : 
nor considering that the greatest pressure of sovereign 
governors, proceedeth not from any delight, or profit they 
can expect in the damage or weakening of their subjects, 
in whose vigour, consisteth their own strength and glory ; 
but in the restiveness of themselves, that unwillingly con- 
tributing to their own defence, make it necessary for their 
governors to draw from them what they can in time of 
peace, that they may have means on any emergent occas- 
ion, or sudden need, to resist, or take advantage on their 
enemies. For all men are by nature provided of notable 
multiplying glasses, that is their passions and self-love, 
through which, every little payment appeareth a great 
grievance ; but are destitute of those prospective glasses, 
namely moral and civil science, to see afar off the miser- 



officers, and ministers ; and to determine of rewards, and punish- 
ments, honour, and order. The reasons whereof, are the same 
which are alleged in the precedent chapter, for the same rights, 
and consequences of sovereignty by institution." 



RIGHTS OF SOVEREIGNS 341 

ies that hang over them, and cannot without such pay- 
ments be avoided/ - ' 






8 On the right of succession of the sovereign power compare 
Leviathan, (M. Ill, 180.). "Of all these forms of government, 
the matter being mortal, so that not only monarchs, but also 
whole assemblies die, it is necessary for the conservation of the 
peace of men, that as there was order taken for an artificial man, 
so there be order also taken, for an artificial eternity of life; 
without which, men that are governed by an assembly, should 
return into the condition of war in every age; and they that 
are governed by one man, as soon as their governor dieth. 
This artificial eternity, is that which men call the right of succes- 
sion. There is no perfect form of government, where the dis- 
posing of the succession is not in the present sovereign. For if 
it be in any other particular man, or private assembly, it is in a 
person subject, and may be assumed by the sovereign at his 
pleasure; and consequently the right is in himself. And if it be 
in no particular man, but left to a new choice ; then is the com- 
monwealth dissolved; and the right is in him that can get it; 
contrary to the intention of them that did institute the common- 
wealth, for their perpetual, and not temporary security." 



CHAPTER XXXI. 

OF THE KINGDOM OF GOD BY NATURE. 

That the condition of mere nature, that is to say, of abso- 
lute liberty, such as is theirs, that neither are sovereigns, 
nor subjects, is anarchy, and the condition of war: that 
the precepts, by which men are guided to avoid that con- 
dition, are the laws of nature : that a commonwealth, with- 
out sovereign power, is but a word without substance, and 
cannot stand: that subjects owe to sovereigns, simple 
obedience, in all things wherein their obedience is not 
repugnant to the laws of God, I have sufficiently proved, 
in that which I have already written. There wants only, 
for the entire knowledge of civil duty, to know what are 
those laws of God. For without that, a man knows not, 
when he is commanded any thing by the civil power, 
whether it be contrary to the law of God, or not : and so, 
either by too much civil obedience, offends the Divine 
Majesty; or through fear of offending God, transgresses 
the commandments of the commonwealth. To avoid 
both these rocks, it is necessary to know what are the laws 
divine. And seeing the knowledge of all law, dependeth 
on the knowledge of the sovereign power, I shall say 
something in that which followeth, of the Kingdom of 
God. 

God is king, let the earth rejoice, saith the psalmist. 
(xcvii. i). And again, {Psalm xcix. i) God is king, 
though the nations be angry ; and he that sitteth on the 
cherubims, though the earth be moved. Whether men will 
or not, they must be subject always to the divine power. 
By denying the existence, or providence of God, men may 
shake off their ease, but not their yoke. But to call this 
power of God, which extendeth itself not only to man, but 



THE KINGDOM OF GOD 343 

also to beasts, and plants, and bodies inanimate, by the 
name of kingdom, is but a metaphorical use of the word. 
For he only is properly said to reign, that governs his 
subjects by his word, and by promise of rewards to those 
that obey it, and by threatening them with punishment that 
obey it not. Subjects therefore in the kingdom of God, 
are not bodies inanimate, nor creatures irrational ; because 
they understand no precepts as his : nor atheists, nor they 
that believe not that God has any care of the actions of 
mankind ; because they acknowledge no word for his, nor 
have hope of his rewards or fear of his threatenings. They 
therefore that believe there is a God that governeth the 
world, and hath given precepts, and propounded rewards, 
and punishments to mankind, are God's subjects ; all the 
rest, are to be understood as enemies. 

To rule by words, requires that such words be man- 
ifestly made known ; for else they are no laws : for to the 
nature of laws belongeth a sufficient, and clear promul- 
gation, such as may take away the excuse of ignorance; 
which in the laws of men is but of one only kind, and that 
is, proclamation, or promulgation by the voice of man. 
But God declareth his laws three ways ; by the dictates of 
natural reason, by revelation, and by the voice of some 
man, to whom by the operation of miracles, he procureth 
credit with the rest. From hence there ariseth a triple 
word of God, rational, sensible, and prophetic: to which 
correspondeth a triple hearing ; right reason, sense super- 
natural, and faith. As for sense supernatural, which con- 
sisted in revelation or inspiration, there have not been 
any universal laws so given, because God speaketh not 
in that manner but to particular persons, and to divers 
men divers things. 

From the difference between the other two kinds of 
God's word, rational, and prophetic, there may be attrib- 



344 LEVIATHAN 

uted to God, a twofold kingdom, natural, and prophetic: 
natural, wherein he governeth as many of mankind as 
acknowledge his providence, by the natural dictates of 
right reason; and prophetic, wherein having chosen out 
one peculiar nation, the Jews, for his subjects, he gov- 
erned them, and none but them, not only by natural rea- 
son, but by positive laws, which he gave them by the 
mouths of his holy prophets. Of the natural kingdom of 
God I intend to speak in this chapter. 

The right of nature, whereby God reigneth over men, 
and punisheth those that break his laws, is to be derived, 
not from his creating them, as if he required obedience 
as of gratitude for his benefits ; but from his irresistible 
power. I have formerly shown how the sovereign right 
ariseth from pact : to show how the same right may arise 
from nature, requires no more, but to show in what 
case it is never taken away. Seeing all men by nature 
had right to all things, they had right every one to reign 
over all the rest. But because this right could not be 
obtained by force, it concerned the safety of every one, 
laying by that right, to set up men, with sovereign author- 
ity, by common consent, to rule and defend them : whereas 
if there had been any man of power irresistible, there 
had been no reason, why he should not by that power have 
ruled and defended both himself, and them, according to 
his own discretion. To those therefore whose power is 
irresistible, the dominion of all men adhereth naturally 
by their excellence of power ; and consequently it is from 
that power, that the kingdom over men, and the right of 
afflicting men at his pleasure, belongeth naturally to God 
Almighty; not as Creator, and gracious; but as omni- 
potent. And though punishment be due for sin only, 
because by that word is understood affliction for sin ; yet 



THE KINGDOM OF GOD 345 

the right of afflicting, is not always derived from men's 
sin, but from God's power. 

This question, why evil men often prosper, and good 
men suffer adversity, has been much disputed by the an- 
cient, and is the same with this of ours, by what right 
God dispenseth the prosperities and adversities of this life; 
and is of that difficulty, as it hath shaken the faith, not 
only of the vulgar, but of philosophers, and which is more, 
of the Saints, concerning the Divine Providence. Hozv 
good, saith David, {Psalm lxxiii. I, 2, 3) is the God of 
Israel to those that are upright in heart; and yet my 
feet were almost gone, my treadings had well-nigh slipt; 
for I zvas grieved at the wicked, when I saw the ungodly 
in such prosperity. And Job, how earnestly does he ex- 
postulate with God, for the many afflictions he suffered, 
notwithstanding his righteousness? This question in 
the case of Job, is decided by God himself, not by argu- 
ments derived from Job's sin, but his own power. For 
whereas the friends of Job drew their arguments from 
his affliction to his sin, and he defended himself by the 
conscience of his innocence, God himself taketh up the 
matter, and having justified the affliction by arguments 
drawn from his power, such as this, (Job xxxviii. 4) 
Where wast thou, when I laid the foundations of the 
earth? and the like, both approved Job's innocence, and 
reproved the erroneous doctrine of his friends. Conform- 
able to this doctrine is the sentence of our Saviour, con- 
cerning the man that was born blind, in these words, 
Neither hath this man sinned, norhis fathers; but that 
the works of God might be made manifest in him. And 
though it be said, that death entered into the world by sin, 
(by which is meant, that if Adam had never sinned, he 
had never died, that is, never suffered any separation of 
his soul from his body,) it follows not thence, that God 



346 LEVIATHAN 

could not justly have afflicted him, though he had not 
sinned, as well as he afflicteth other living creatures, that 
cannot sin. 

Having spoken of the right of God's sovereignty, 
as grounded only on nature; we are to consider next, 
what are the Divine laws, or dictates of natural reason ; 
which laws concern either the natural duties of one man 
to another, or the honour naturally due to our Divine Sov- 
ereign. The first are the same laws of nature, of which 
I have spoken already in the fourteenth and fifteenth chap- 
ters of this treatise; namely, equity, justice, mercy, hu- 
mility, and the rest of the moral virtues. It remaineth 
therefore that we consider, what precepts are dictated 
to men, by their natural reason only, without other word 
of God, touching the honour and worship of the Divine 
Majesty. 

Honour consisteth in the inward thought, and opinion 
of the power, and goodness of another; and therefore 
to honour God, is to think as highly of his power and 
goodness, as is possible. And of that opinion, the external 
signs appearing in the words and actions of men, are 
called zuorship; which is one part of that which the Latins 
understand by the word cultus. For cultus signifieth 
properly, and constantly, that labour which a man bestows 
on anything, with a purpose to make benefit by it. Now 
those things whereof we make benefit, are either subject 
to us, and the profit they yield, followeth the labour 
we bestow upon them, as a natural effect; or they are 
not subject to us, but answer our labour, according to their 
own wills. In the first sense the labour bestowed on the 
earth, is called culture; and the education of children, a 
culture of their minds. In the second sense, where men's 
wills are to be wrought to our purpose, not by force, but 
by complaisance, it signifieth as much as courting, that 



THE KINGDOM OF GOD 347 

is, a winning of favour by good offices ; as by praises, by 
acknowledging their power, and by whatsoever is pleasing 
to them from whom we look for any benefit. And this is 
properly worship: in which sense Publicola, is understood 
for a worshipper of the people; and cultus Dei, for the 
worship of God. 

From internal honour, consisting in the the opinion 
of power and goodness, arise three passions ; love, which 
hath reference to goodness ; and hope, and fear, that relate 
to power: and three parts of external worship; praise, 
magnifying, and blessing: the subject of praise, being] 
goodness ; the subject of magnifying and blessing, being 
power, and the effect thereof felicity. Praise, and mag- 
nifying are signified both by words, and actions : by words, 
when we say a man is good, or great: by actions, when 
we thank him for his bounty, and obey his power. The 
opinion of the happiness of another, can only be expressed 
by words. 

There be some signs of honour, both in attributes and 
actions, that be naturally so ; as amongst attributes, good, 
just, liberal, and the like; and amongst actions, prayers, 
thanks, and obedience. Others are so by institution, or 
custom of men ; and in some times and places are honour- 
able ; in others, dishonourable ; in others, indifferent : such 
as are the gestures in salutation, prayer, and thanksgiving, 
in different times and places, differently used. The for- 
mer is natural; the latter arbitrary worship. 

And of arbitrary worship, there be two differences : for 
sometimes it is a commanded, sometimes voluntary wor- 
ship : commanded, when it is such as he requireth, who is 
worshipped : free, when it is such as the worshipper thinks 
fit. When it is commanded, not the words, or gesture, but 
the obedience is the worship. But when free, the worship 
consists in the opinion of the beholders : for if to them 



348 LEVIATHAN 

the words, or actions by which we intend honour, seem 
ridiculous, and tending to contumely, they are no worship, 
because no signs of honour; and no signs of honour, 
because a sign is not a sign to him that giveth it, but to 
him to whom it is made, that is, to the spectator. 

Again, there is a public, and a private worship. Pub- 
lic, is the worship that a commonwealth performeth, as 
one person. Private, is that which a private person ex- 
hibiteth. Public, in respect to the whole commonwealth, 
is free; but in respect of particular men, it is not so. 
Private, is in secret free; but in the sight of the multi- 
tude, it is never without some restraint, either from the 
laws, or from the opinion of men; which is contrary to 
the nature of liberty. 

The end of worship amongst men, is power. For 
where a man seeth another worshipped, he supposeth him 
powerful, and is the readier to obey him; which makes 
his power greater. But God has no ends: the worship 
we do him, proceeds from our duty, and is directed ac- 
cording to our capacity, by those rules of honour, that 
reason dictateth to be done by the weak to the more potent 
men, in hope of benefit, for fear of damage, or in thank- 
fulness for good already received from them. 

That we may know what worshipof God is taught us 
by the light of nature, I will begin with his attributes. 
Where, first, it is manifest, we ought to attribute to him 
existence. For no man can have the will to honour that, 
which he thinks not to have any being. 

Secondly, that those philosophers, who said the world, 
or the soul of the world was God, spake unworthily of 
him ; and denied his existence. For by God, is understood 
the cause of the world; and to say the world is God, is 
to say there is no cause of it, that is, no God. 

Thirdly, to say the world was not created, but eternal, 



THE KINGDOM OF GOD 349 

seeing thai- which is eternal has no cause, is to deny there 
is a God- 
Fourthly, that they who attributing, as they think, 
ease to God, take from him the care of mankind; take 
from him his honour: for it takes away men's love, and 
fear of him ; which is the root of honour. 

Fifthly, in those things that signify greatness, and 
power; to say he is finite, is not to honour him: for it 
is not a sign of the will to honour God, to attribute to 
him less than we can; and finite, is less than we can; 
because to finite, it is easy to add more. 

Therefore to attribute figure to him, is not honour; 
for all figure is finite : 

Nor to say we conceive, and imagine, or have an idea 
of him, in our mind : for whatsoever we conceive is finite : 

Nor to attribute to him parts, or totality; which are the 
attributes only of things finite : 

Nor to say he is in this, or that place: for whatsoever 
is in place, is bounded, and finite : 

Nor that he is moved, or resteth: for both these attri- 
butes ascribe to him place : 

Nor that there be more Gods than one; because it 
implies them all finite : for there cannot be more than one 
infinite : 

Nor to ascribe to him, (unless metaphorically, mean- 
ing not the passion but the effect,) passions that partake 
of grief; as repentance, anger, mercy: or of want; as ap- 
petite, hope, desire; or of any passive faculty; for pas- 
sion, is power limited by somewhat else. 

And therefore when we ascribe to God a will, it is not 
to be understood, as that of man, for a rational appetite; 
but as the power, by which he afrecteth every thing. 

Likewise when we attribute to him sight, and other 
acts of sense; as also knowledge, and understanding; 



350 LEVIATHAN 

which in us is nothing else, but a tumult of the mind, 
raised by external things that press the organical parts 
of man's body: for there is no such thing in God; and 
being things that depend on natural causes, cannot be 
attributed to him. 

He that will attribute to God, nothing but what is 
warranted by natural reason, must either use such neg- 
ative attributes, as infinite, eternal, incomprehensible ; or 
superlatives, as most high, most great, and the like; or 
indefinite, as good, Just, holy, creator; and in such sense, 
as if he meant not to declare what he is, (for that were 
to circumscribe him within the limits of our fancy,) but 
how much we admire him, and how ready we would be 
to obey him; which is a sign of humility, and of a will 
to honour him as much as we can. For there is but one 
name to signify our conception of his nature, and that is, 
I am : and but one name of his relation to us, and that is, 
God; in which is contained Father, King, and Lord. 

Concerning the actions of divine worship, it is a most 
general precept of reason, that they be signs of the inten- 
tion to honour God ; such as are, first, prayers. For not 
the carvers, when they made images, were thought to 
make them gods ; but the people that prayed to them. 

Secondly, thanksgiving ; which differeth from prayer 
in divine worship, no otherwise, than that prayers precede, 
and thanks succeed the benefit ; the end, both of the one 
and the other, being to acknowledge God, for author 
of all benefits, as well past, as future. 

Thirdly, gifts, that is to say, sacrifices and oblations, 
if they be of the best, are signs of honour : for they are 
thanksgivings. 

Fourthly, not to swear by any but God, is naturally 
a sign of honour: for it is a confession that God only 
knoweth the heart; and that no man's wit or strength 



THE KINGDOM OF GOD 351 

can protect a man against God's vengeance on the per- 
jured. 

Fifthly, it is a part of rational worship, to speak 
considerately of God ; for it argues a fear of him, and fear 
is a confession of his power. Hence followeth, that the 
name of God is not to be used rashly, and to no purpose ; 
for that is as much, as in vain: and it is to no purpose, 
unless it be by way of oath, and by order of the common- 
wealth, to make judgments certain ; or between common- 
wealths, to avoid war. And that disputing of God's 
nature is contrary to his honour: for it is supposed, that 
in this natural kingdom of God, there is no other way to 
know anything, but by natural reason, that is, from the 
principles of natural science ; which are so far from teach- 
ing us anything of God's nature, as they cannot teach us 
our own nature, nor the nature of the smallest creature 
living. And therefore, when men out of the principles of 
natural reason, dispute of the attributes of God, they but 
dishonour him: for in the attributes which we give to 
God, we are not to consider the signification of philosoph- 
ical truth ; but the signification of pious intention, to 
do him the greatest honour we are able. From the want 
of which consideration, have proceeded the volumes of dis- 
putation about the nature of God, that tend not to his 
honour, but to the honour of our own wits and learning; 
and are nothing else but inconsiderate and vain abuses of 
his sacred name. 

Sixthly, in prayers, thanksgivings, offerings, and sac- 
rifices, it is a dictate of natural reason, that they be every 
one in his kind the best, and most significant of honour. 
As for example, that prayers and thanksgiving, be made in 
words and phrases, not sudden, nor light, nor plebeian ; 
but beautiful, and well composed. For else we do not 
God as much honour as we can. And therefore the hea- 



352 LEVIATHAN 

thens did absurdly, to worship images for gods : but their 
doing it in verse, and with music, both of voice and in- 
struments, was reasonable. Also that the beasts they 
offered in sacrifice, and the gifts they offered, and their ac- 
tions in worshipping, were full of submission, and com- 
memorative of benefits received, was according to reason, 
as proceeding from an intention to honour him. 

Seventhly, reason directeth not only to worship God in 
secret ; but also, and especially, in public, and in the sight 
of men. For without that, that which in honour is most 
acceptable, the procuring others to honour him, is lost. 

Lastly, obedience to his laws, that is, in this case to the 
laws of nature, is the greatest worship of all. For as 
obedience is more acceptable to God than sacrifice; so 
also to set light by his commandments, is the greatest of 
all contumelies. And these are the laws of that divine 
worship, which natural reason dictateth to private men. 

But seeing a commonwealth is but one person, it ought 
also to exhibit to God but one worship ; which then it doth, 
when it commandeth it to be exhibited by private men, 
publicly. And this is public worship ; the property where- 
of, is to be uniform: for those actions that are done differ- 
ently, by different men, cannot be said to be a public wor- 
ship. And therefore, where many sorts of worship be al- 
lowed, proceeding from different religions of private men, 
it cannot be said there is any public worship, nor that the 
commonwealth is of any religion at all. 

And because words, and consequently the attributes 
of God, have their signification by agreement and con- 
stitution of men, those attributes are to be held signifi- 
cative of honour, that men intend shall so be ; and what- 
soever may be done by the wills of particular men, where 
there is no law but reason, may be done by the will of the 
commonwealth, by laws civil. And because a common- 



THE KINGDOM OF GOD 353 

health hath no will, nor makes no laws, but those that are 
made by the will of him, or them that have the sovereign 
power; it followeth that those attributes which the sov- 
ereign ordaineth, in the worship of God, for signs of 
honour, ought to be taken and used for such, by private 
men in their public worship. 

But because not all actions are signs by constitution, 
but some are naturally signs of honour, others of con- 
tumely ; these latter, which are those that men are asham- 
ed to do in the sight of them they reverence, cannot be 
made by human power a part of Divine worship ; nor the 
former, such as are decent, modest, humble behaviour, 
ever be separated from it. But whereas there be an in- 
finite number of actions and gestures of an indifferent 
nature; such of them as the commonwealth shall ordain 
to be publicly and universally in use, as signs of honour, 
and part of God's worship, are to be taken and used for 
such by the subjects. And that which is said in the 
Scripture, 77 is better to obey God than man, hath place 
in the kingdom of God by pact, and not by nature. 

Having thus briefly spoken of the natural kingdom of 
God, and his natural laws, I will add only to this chapter 
a short declaration of his natural punishments. There is 
no action of man in this life, that is not the beginning of 
so long a chain of consequences, as no human providence 
is high enough, to give a man a prospect to the end. And 
in this chain, there are linked together both pleasing and 
unpleasing events ; in such manner, as he that will do any- 
thing for his pleasure, must engage himself to suffer 
all the pains annexed to it ; and these pains, are the nat- 
ural punishments of those actions, which are the begin- 
ning of more harm than good. And hereby it comes to 
pass, that intemperance is naturally punished with dis- 
eases ; rashness, with mischances ; injustice, with the 



354 LEVIATHAN 

violence of enemies; pride, with ruin; cowardice, with 
oppression; negligent government of princes, with re- 
bellion; and rebellion, with slaughter. For seeing pun- 
ishments are consequent to the breach of laws; natural 
punishments must be naturally consequent to the breach 
of the laws of nature ; and therefore follow them as their 
natural, not arbitrary effects. 

And thus far concerning the constitution, nature, and 
right of sovereigns, and concerning the duty of sub- 
jects, derived from the principles of natural reason. And 
now, considering how different this doctrine is, from the 
practice of the greatest part of the world, especially of 
these western parts, that have received their moral learn- 
ing from Rome and Athens ; and how much depth of 
moral philosophy is required, in them that have the ad- 
ministration of the sovereign power ; I am at the point of 
believing this my labour, as useless, as the commonwealth 
of Plato. For he also is of opinion that it is impossible 
for the disorders of state, and change of governments 
by civil war, ever to be taken away, till sovereigns 
be philosophers. But when I consider again, that the 
science of natural justice, is the only science necessary 
for sovereigns and their principal ministers ; and that they 
need not be charged with the sciences mathematical, as 
by Plato they are, farther than by good laws to encourage 
men to the study of them ; and that neither Plato, nor 
any other philosopher hitherto, hath put into order, and 
sufficiently or probably proved all the theorems of moral 
doctrine, that men may learn thereby, both how to gov- 
ern, and how to obey ; I recover some hope, that one time 
or other, this writing of mine may fall into the hands of 
a sovereign, who will consider it himself, (for it is short, 
and I think clear,) without the help of any interested, 
or envious interpreter ; and by the exercise of entire 



THE KINGDOM OF GOD 355 

sovereignty, in protecting the public teaching of it, 
convert this truth of speculation, into the utility of 
practice. 



CHAPTER XLIII. 

OF WHAT IS NECESSARY FOR A MAN'S RECEPTION INTO 
THE KINGDOM OF HEAVEN. 

The most frequent pretext of sedition, and civil war, in 
Christian commonwealths, hath a long time proceeded 
from a difficulty, not yet sufficiently resolved, of obeying 
at once both God and man, then when their command- 
ments are one contrary to the other. It is manifest 
enough, that when a man receiveth two contrary com- 
mands, and knows that one of them is God's, he ought 
to obey that, and not the other, though it be the command 
even of his lawful sovereign (whether a monarch, or a 
sovereign assembly), or the command of his father. 
The difficulty therefore consisteth in this, that men, 
when they are commanded in the name of God, know 
not in divers cases, whether the command be from God, 
or whether he that commandeth do but abuse God's name 
for some private ends of his own. For as there were in 
the Church of the Jews, many false prophets, that sought 
reputation with the people, by feigned dreams and vis- 
ions; so there have been in all times in the Church of 
Christ, false teachers, that seek reputation with the peo- 
ple, by fantastical and false doctrines ; and by such repu- 
tation, (as is the nature of ambition), to govern them 
for their private benefit. 

But this difficulty of obeying both God and the civil 
sovereign on earth, to those that can distinguish be- 
tween what is necessary, and what is not necessary for 
their reception into the kingdom of God, is of no mo- 
ment. For if the command of the civil sovereign be such, 
as that it may be obeyed without the forfeiture of life 



WHAT NECESSARY TO SALVATION 357 

eternal; not to obey it is unjust; and the precept of the 
apostle takes place: Servants obey your masters in all 
things; and Children obey your parents in all things; 
and the precept of our Saviour, The Scribes and Phari- 
sees sit in Moses' chair; all therefore they shall say, that 
observe and do. But if the command be such as cannot be 
obeyed, without being damned to eternal death; then it 
were madness to obey it, and the council of our Saviour 
takes place, (Matth. x. 28), Fear not those that kill the 
body, but cannot kill the soul. All men therefore that 
would avoid, both the punishments that are to be in this 
world inflicted, for disobedience to their earthly sove- 
reign, and those that shall be inflicted in the world to 
come, for disobedience to God, have need be taught to 
distinguish well between what is, and what is not neces- 
sary to eternal salvation. 

All that is necessary to salvation, is contained in two 
virtues, faith in Christ, and obedience to laws. The lat- 
ter of these, if it were perfect, were enough to us. But 
because we are all guilty of disobedience to God's law, 
not only originally in Adam, but also actually by our own 
transgressions, there is required at our hands now, not 
only obedience for the rest of our time, but also a remis- 
sion of sins for the time past ; which remission is the re- 
ward of our faith in Christ. That nothing else is neces- 
sarily required to salvation, is manifest from this, that 
the kingdom of heaven is shut to none but to sinners ; 
that is to say, to the disobedient, or transgressors of the 
law ; nor to them, in case they repent, and believe all the 
articles of Christian faith necessary to salvation. 

The obedience required at our hands by God, that 
accepteth in all our actions the will for the deed, is a 
serious endeavour to obey him ; and is called also by all 
such names as signify that endeavour. And therefore obe- 



358 LEVIATHAN 

dience is sometimes called by the names of charity and 
love, because they imply a will to obey ; and our Saviour 
himself maketh our love to God, and to one another, a 
fulfilling of the whole law : and sometimes by the name of 
righteousness; for righteousness is but the will to give 
to every one his own ; that is to say, the will to obey the 
laws: and sometimes by the name of repentance; be- 
cause to repent, implieth a turning away from sin, which 
is the same with the return of the will to obedience. 
Whosoever therefore unfeignedly desireth to fulfill the 
commandments of God, or repenteth him truly of his 
transgressions, or that loveth God with all his heart, 
and his neighbour as himself, hath all the obedience 
necessary to his reception into the kingdom of God. For 
if God should require perfect innocence, there could no 
flesh be saved. 

But what commandments are those that God hath giv- 
en us ? Are all those laws which were given to the Jews 
by the hand of Moses, the commandments of God? If 
they be, why are not Christians taught to obey them? If 
they be not, what others are so, besides the law of nature ? 
For our Saviour Christ hath not given us new laws, but 
counsel to observe those we are subject to; that is to say, 
the laws of nature, and the laws of our several sove- 
reigns : nor did he make any new law to the Jews in his 
sermon on the Mount, but only expounded the law of 
Moses, to which they were subject before. The laws 
of God therefore are none but the laws of nature, whereof 
the principal is, that we should not violate our faith, 
that is, a commandment to obey our civil sovereigns, 
which we constituted over us by mutual pact one with 
another. And this law of God, that commandeth obe- 
dience to the law civil, commandeth by conseqence obe- 
dience to all the precepts of the Bible; which, as I have 



WHAT NECESSARY TO SALVATION 359 

proved in the precedent chapter, is there only law, where 
the civil sovereign hath made it so; and in other places, 
but counsel; which a man at his own peril may without 
injustice refuse to obey. 

Knowing now what is the obedience necessary to 
salvation, and to whom it is due ; we are to consider next 
concerning faith, whom, and why we believe; and what 
are the articles, or points necessary to be believed by 
them that shall be saved. And first, for the person 
whom we believe, because it is impossible to believe 
any person, before we know what he saith, it is necessary 
he be one that we have heard speak. The person, there- 
fore, whom Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Moses, and the pro- 
phets, believed, was God himself, that spake unto them 
supernaturally : and the person, whom the apostles and 
disciples that conversed with Christ believed, was our 
Saviour himself. But of them, to whom neither God 
the father, nor our Saviour, ever spake, it cannot be said 
that the person whom they believed, was God. They 
believed the apostles, and after them the pastors and 
doctors of the Church, that recommended to their faith 
the history of the Old and New Testament: so that the 
faith of Christians ever since our Saviour's time, hath 
had for foundation, first, the reputation of their pastors, 
and afterward, the authority of those that made the Old 
and New Testament to be received for the rule of faith ; 
which none could do but Christian sovereigns ; who are 
therefore the supreme pastors, and the only persons whom 
Christians now hear speak from God ; except such as 
God speaketh to in these days supernaturally. But be- 
cause there be many false prophets gone out into the 
world, other men are to examine such spirits, as St. John 
adviseth us, (1st Epistle iv. 1) whether they be of God, 
or not. And therefore, seeing the examination of doc- 



360 LEVIATHAN 

trines beloneth to the supreme pastor, the person, which 
all they that have no special revelation are to believe, is, 
in every commonwealth, the supreme pastor, that is to 
say, the civil sovereign. 

The causes why men believe any Christian doctrine, 
are various. For faith is the gift of God ; and he worketh 
it in each several man, by such ways as it seemeth good 
unto himself. The most ordinary immediate cause of our 
belief, concerning any point of Christian faith, is, that 
we believe the Bible to be the word of God. But why 
we believe the Bible to be the word of God, is much dis- 
puted, as all questions must needs be, that are not well 
stated. For they make not the question to be, why we 
believe it, but, how we know it; as if believing and know- 
ing were all one. And thence while one side ground their 
knowledge upon the infallibility of the Church, the other 
side, on the testimony of the private spirit, neither side 
concludeth what it pretends. For how shall a man know 
the infallibility of the Church, but by knowing first the 
infallibility of the Scripture? Or how shall a man know 
his own private spirit to be other than a belief, grounded 
upon the authority and arguments of his teachers, or 
upon a presumption of his own gifts? Besides, there is 
nothing in the Scripture, from which can be inferred the 
infallibility of the Church ; much less, of any particular 
Church ; and least of all, the infallibility of any particular 
man. 

It is manifest therefore, that Christian men do not 
know, but only believe the Scripture to be the word of 
God ; and that the means of making them believe, which 
God is pleased to afford men ordinarily, is according to 
the way of nature, that is to say, from their teachers. It is 
the doctrine of St. Paul concerning Christian faith in gen- 
eral (Rom. x. 17), Faith conieth by hearing, that is, by 



WHAT NECESSARY TO SALVATION 361 

hearing our lawful pastors. He saith also, (verses 14, 15, 
of the same chapter), Hozwshall they believe in him of 
whom they have not heard? and how shall they hear with- 
out a preacher? and how shall they preach, except they be 
sent? Whereby it is evident, that the ordinary cause of 
believing that the Scriptures are the word of God, is the 
same with the cause of the believing of all other articles 
of our faith, namely, the hearing of those that are by the 
law allowed and appointed to teach us, as our parents 
in their houses, and our pastors in the churches. Which 
also is made more manifest by experience. For what 
other cause can there be assigned, why in Christian com- 
monwealths all men either believe, or at least profess 
the Scripture to be the word of God, and in other com- 
monwealths scarce any; but that in Christian common- 
wealths they are taught it from their infancy; and in 
other places they are taught otherwise? 

But if teaching be the cause of faith, why do not all 
believe? It is certain therefore that faith is the gift of 
God, and he giveth it to whom he will. Nevertheless, 
because to them to whom he giveth it, he giveth it by 
the means of teachers, the immediate cause of faith is 
hearing. In a school, where many are taught, and some 
profit, others profit not, the cause of learning in them 
that profit, is the master ; yet it cannot be thence inferred, 
that learning is not the gift of God. All good things pro- 
ceed from God; yet cannot all that have them, say they 
are inspired; for that implies a gift supernatural, and 
the immediate hand of God; which he that pretends to, 
pretends to be a prophet, and is subject to the examin- 
ation of the Church. 

But whether men know, or believe, or grant the Scrip- 
tures to be the word of God ; if out of such places of 
them, as are without obscurity, I shall show what articles 



362 LEVIATHAN 

of faith are necessary, and only necessary for salvation, 
those men must needs knozv, believe, or grant the same. 

The unum necessarium, only article of faith, which 
the Scripture maketh simply necessary to salvation, is 
this, that Jesus is the Christ. By the name of Christ 
is understood the king, which God had before promised 
by the prophets of the Old Testament, to send into the 
world, to reign (over the Jews, and over such of other 
nations as should believe in him), under himself eternally ; 
and to give them that eternal life, which was lost by the 
sin of Adam. Which when I have proved out of Scrip- 
ture, I will further show when, and in what sense, some 
other articles may be also called necessary. 



But a man may here ask, whether it be not as nec- 
essary to salvation, to believe, that God is omnipotent; 
Creator of the world ; that Jesus Christ is risen ; and that 
all men else shall rise again from the dead at the last day ; 
as to believe that Jesus is the Christ. To which I answer, 
they are; and so are many more articles: but they are 
such, as are contained in this one, and may be deduced 
from it, with more or less difficulty. For who is there 
that does not see, that they who believe Jesus to be the 
Son of the God of Israel, and that the Israelites had for 
God the Omnipotent Creator of all things, do therein also 
believe, that God is the Omnipotent Creator of all things ? 
Or how can a man believe, that Jesus is the king that shall 
reign eternally, unless he believe him also risen again from 
the dead? For a dead man cannot exercise the office of 
a king. In sum, he that holdeth this foundation, Jesus 
is the Christ, holdeth expressly all that he seeth rightly 
deduced from it, and implicitly all that is consequent 
thereunto, though he have not skill enough to discern the 



WHAT NECESSARY TO SALVATION 363 

consequence. And therefore it holdeth still good, that 
the belief of this one article is sufficient faith to obtain 
remission of sins to the penitent, and consequently to bring 
them into the kingdom of heaven. 



Seeing then it is necessary that faith and obedience, 
implied in the word repentance, do both concur to our 
salvation ; the question by which of the two we are jus- 
tified, is impertinently disputed. Nevertheless, it will 
not be impertinent, to make manifest in what manner 
each of them contributes thereunto; and in what sense 
it is said, that we are to be justified by the one, and by 
the other. And first, if by righteousness be understood 
the justice of the works themselves, there is no man that 
can be saved ; for there is none that hath not transgressed 
the law of God. And therefore when we are said to be 
justified by works, it is to be understood of the will, 
which God doth always accept for the work itself, as 
well in good, as in evil men. And in this sense only 
it is, that a man is called just, or unjust; and that his 
justice justifies him, that is, gives him the title, in God's 
acceptation, of just; and renders him capable of living by 
his faith, which before he was not. So that justice jus- 
tifies in that sense, in which to justify, is the same as that 
to denominate a man just; and not in the signification of 
discharging the law; whereby the punishment of his 
sins should be unjust. 

But a man is then also said to be justified, when his 
plea, though in itself insufficient, is accepted; as when 
we plead our will, our endeavour to fulfil the law, and 
repent us of our failings, and God accepteth it for the 
performance itself. And because God accepteth not the 
will for the deed, but only in the faithful ; it is therefore 



364 LEVIATHAN 

faith that makes good our plea; and in this sense it is, 
that faith only justifies. So that faith and obedience are 
both necessary to salvation ; yet in several senses each of 
them is said to justify. 

Having thus shown what is necessary to salvation; 
it is not hard to reconcile our obedience to God, with 
our obedience to the civil sovereign ; who is either Chris- 
tian, or infidel. If he be a Christian, he alloweth the belief 
of this article, that Jesus is the Christ; and of all the 
articles that are contained in, or are by evident conse- 
quence deduced from it: which is all the faith necessary 
to salvation. And because he is a sovereign, he requir- 
eth obedience to all his own, that is, to all the civil laws ; 
in which also are contained all the laws of nature, that 
is all the laws of God : for besides the laws of nature, and 
the laws of the Church, which are part of the civil law, 
(for the Church that can make laws is the common- 
wealth), there be no other laws divine. Whosoever 
therefore obeyeth his Christian sovereign, is not thereby 
hindered, neither from believing, nor from obeying God. 
But suppose that a Christian king should from this foun- 
dation Jesus is the Christ, draw some false consequences, 
that is to say, make some superstructions of hay or stub- 
ble, and command the teaching of the same; yet seeing 
St. Paul says he shall be saved; much more shall he be 
saved, that teacheth them by his command; and much 
more yet, he that teaches not, but only believes his lawful 
teacher. And in case a subject be forbidden by the 
civil sovereign to profess some of those his opinions, upon 
what just ground can he disobey? Christian kings may 
err in deducing a consequence, but who shall judge ? Shall 
a private man judge, when the question is of his own 
obedience? Or shall any man judge but he that is ap- 
pointed thereto by the Church, that is, by the civil sov- 



WHAT NECESSARY TO SALVATION 365 

ereign that representeth it? Or if the pope, or an apostle 
judge, may he not err in deducing of a consequence? 
Did not one of the two, St. Peter or St. Paul, err in a 
superstructure, when St. Paul withstood St. Peter to his 
face? There can therefore be no contradiction between 
the laws of God, and the laws of a Christian common- 
wealth. 

And when the civil sovereign is an infidel, every one 
of his own subjects that resisteth him, sinneth against 
the laws of God, (for such are the laws of nature), and 
rejecteth the counsel of the apostles, that admonisheth 
all Christians to obey their princes, and all children and 
servants to obey their parents and masters in all things. 
And for their faith, it is internal, and invisible ; they have 
the license that Naaman had, and need not put themselves 
into danger for it. But if they do, they ought to expect 
their reward in heaven, and not complain of their lawful 
sovereign ; much less make war upon him. For he that is 
not glad of any just occasion of martyrdom, has not the 
faith he professeth, but pretends it only, to set some colour 
upon his own contumacy. But what infidel king is so 
unreasonable, as knowing he has a subject, that waiteth 
for the second coming of Christ, after the present world 
shall be burnt, and intendeth then to obey him, (which 
is the intent of believing that Jesus is the Christ,) and in 
the mean time thinketh himself bound to obey the laws of 
that infidel king, (which all Christians are obliged in 
conscience to do), to put to death or to persecute such 
a subject? 1 



Compare Philosophical Rudiments, (M. II, 314)- "By 
what hath been said hitherto, it will be easy to discern what the 
duty of Christian subjects is towards their sovereigns; who, as 
long as they profess themselves Christians, cannot command 
their subjects to deny Christ, or to offer him any contumely: 



366 LEVIATHAN 

And thus much shall suffice, concerning the kingdom 
of God, and policy ecclesiastical. Wherein I pretend not 
to advance any position of my own, but only to show what 
are the consequences that seem to me deducible from the 
principles of Christian politics, (which are the holy Scrip- 
tures,) in confirmation of the power of civil sovereigns, 
and the duty of their subjects. And in the allegation 
of Scripture, I have endeavoured to avoid such texts 
as are of obscure or controverted interpretation; and to 
allege none, but in such sense as is most plain, and agree- 
able to the harmony and scope of the whole Bible ; which 



for if they should command this, they would profess themselves 
to be no Christians. For seeing we have showed, both by nat- 
ural reason and out of holy Scriptures, that subjects ought in 
all things to obey their princes and governors, excepting those 
which are contrary to the command of God ; and that the com- 
mands of God, in a Christian city, concerning temporal affairs, 
that is to say, those which are to be discussed by human reason, 
are the laws and sentence of the city, delivered from those who 
have received authority from the city to make laws and judge 
of controversies ; but concerning spiritual matters, that is to say, 
those which are to be defined by the holy Scripture, are the laws 
and sentences of the city, that is to say, the Church, (for a 
Christian city and a Church * * * * are the same thing), 
delivered by pastors lawfully ordained, and who have to that end 
authority given them by the city; it manifestly follows, that in 
a Christian commonweal obedience is due to the sovereign in all 
things, as well spiritual as temporal. And that the same obedi- 
ence, even from a Christian subject, is due in all temporal maU 
ters to those princes who are no Christians, is without any con- 
troversy; but in matters spiritual, that is to say, those things 
which concern God's worship, some Christian Church is to be 
followed. For it is an hypothesis of the Christian faith, that 
God speaks not in things supernatural but by the way of Christian 
interpreters of holy Scriptures. But what? Must we resist 
princes, when we cannot obey them? Truly, no; for this is 
contrary to our civil covenant. What must we do then? Go 
to Christ by martyrdom ; which if it seem to any man to be a 
hard saying, most certain it is that he believes not with his 
whole heart, that Jesus is the Christ, the son of the living God; 
for he would then desire to be dissolved, and to be with Christ ; 
but he would by a feigned Christian faith elude that obedience, 
which he hath contracted to yield unto the city." 



WHAT NECESSARY TO SALVATION 367 

was written for the re-establishment of the kingdom of 
God in Christ. For it is not the bare words, but the scope 
of the writer, that giveth the true light, by which any writ- 
ing is to be interpreted ; and they that insist upon single 
texts, without considering the main design, can derive 
nothing from them clearly; but rather by casting atoms 
of Scripture, as dust before men's eyes, make every thing 
more obscure than it is ; an ordinary artifice of those that 
seek not the truth, but their own advantage. 



A REVIEW AND CONCLUSION. 



From the contrariety of some of the natural faculties of 
the mind, one to another, as also of one passion to another, 
and from their reference to conversation, there has been 
an argument taken, to infer an impossibility that any 
one man should be sufficiently disposed to all sorts of 
civil duty. The severity of judgment, they say, makes 
men censorious, and unapt to pardon the errors and in- 
firmities of other men: and on the other side, celerity r i 
fancy, makes the thoughts less steady than is necessary, 
to discern exactly between right and wrong. Again, in 
all deliberations, and in all pleadings, the faculty of solid 
reasoning is necessary : for without it, the resolutions 
of men are rash, and their sentences unjust: and yet if 
there be not powerful eloquence, which procureth atten- 
tion and consent, the effect of reason will be little. But 
these are contrary faculties ; the former being grounded 
upon principles of truth ; the other upon opinions already 
received, true or false ; and upon the passions and interests 
of men, which are different, and mutable. 

And amongst the passions, courage, (by which I mean 
the contempt of wounds, and violent death) inclineth 
men to private revenges, and sometimes to endeavour 
the unsettling of the public peace: and timorousness, 
many times disposeth to the desertion of the public de- 
fence. Both these, they say, cannot stand together in 
the same person. 

And to consider the contrariety of men's opinions, and 
manners, in general, it is, they say, impossible to entertain 
a constant civil amity with all those, with whom the 
business of the world constrains us to converse: which 



CONCLUSION 369 

business consisteth almost in nothing else but a perpetual 
contention for honour, riches, and authority. 

To which I answer, that these are indeed great diffi- 
culties, but not impossibilities : for by education, and 
discipline, they may be, and are sometimes reconciled. 
Judgment and fancy may have place in the same man ; but 
by turns ; as the end which he aimeth at requireth. As the 
Israelites in Egypt, were sometimes fastened to their 
labour of making bricks, and other times were ranging 
abroad to gather straw : so also may the judgment some- 
times be fixed upon one certain consideration, and the 
fancy at another time wandering about the world. So 
also reason, and eloquence, though not perhaps in the 
natural sciences, yet, in the moral, may stand very well 
together. For wheresoever there is place for adorning 
and preferring of error, there is much more place for 
adorning and preferring of truth, if they have it to adorn. 
Nor is there any repugnancy between fearing the laws, 
and not fearing a public enemy; nor between abstaining 
from injury, and pardoning it in others. There is there- 
fore no such inconsistence of human nature, with civil du- 
ties, as some think. I have known clearness of judgment, 
and largeness of fancy ; strength of reason, and graceful 
elocution ; a courage for the war, and a fear for the laws, 
and all eminently in one man ; and that was my most noble 
and honoured friend, Mr. Sidney Godolphin ; who hating 
no man, nor hated of any, was unfortunately slain in the 
beginning of the late civil war, in the public quarrel, by 
an undiscerned and an undiscerning hand. 

To the Laws of Nature, declared in Chapter xv. I 
would have this added, that every man is bound by nature, 
as much as in him lieth, to protect in war the authority, by 
which he is himself protected in time of peace. For he 
that pretendeth a right of nature to preserve his own body, 



370 LEVIATHAN 



cannot pretend a right of nature to destroy him, by whose 
strength he is preserved : it is a manifest contradiction of 
himself. And though this law may be drawn by conse- 
quence, from some of those that are there already men- 
tioned; yet the times require to have it inculcated, and 
remembered. 

And because I find by divers English books lately 
printed, that the civil wars have not yet sufficiently taught 
men in what point of time- it is, that a subject becomes 
obliged to the conqueror ; nor what is conquest ; nor how 
it comes about, that it obliges men to obey his laws : there- 
fore for further satisfaction of men therein, I say, the 
point of time, wherein a man becomes subject to a con- 
queror, is that point, wherein having liberty to submit 
to him, he consenteth, either by express words, or by other 
sufficient sign, to be his subject. When it is that a man 
hath the liberty to submit, I have showed before in the 
end of Chapter xxi. ; namely, that for him that hath no 
obligation to his former sovereign but that of an ordinary 
subject, it is then, when the means of his life are within 
the guards and garrisons of the enemy ; for it is then, that 
he hath no longer protection from him, but is protected by 
the adverse party for his contribution. Seeing therefore 
such contribution is every where, as a thing inevitable, 
notwithstanding it be an assistance to the enemy, esteemed 
lawful; a total submission, which is but an assistance to 
the enemy, cannot be esteemed unlawful. Besides, if 
a man consider that they who submit, assist the enemy but 
with part of their estates, whereas they that refuse, assist 
him with the whole, there is no reason to call their sub- 
mission, or composition, an assistance ; but rather a detri- 
ment to the enemy. But if a man, besides the obligation 
of a subject, hath taken upon him a new obligation of 
a soldier, then he hath not the liberty to submit to a new 



CONCLUSION 371 

power, as long as the old one keeps the field, and giveth 
him means of subsistence, either in his armies, or gar- 
risons: for in this case, he cannot complain of want of 
protection, and means to live as a soldier. But when that 
also fails, a soldier also may seek his protection where- 
soever he has most hope to have it; and may lawfully 
submit himself to his new master. And so much for the 
time when he may do it lawfully, if he will. If therefore 
he do it, he is undoubtedly bound to be a true subject : for 
a contract lawfully made, cannot lawfully be broken. 
By this also a man may understand, when it is, that 
men may be said to be conquered ; and in what the nature 
of conquest, and the right of a conqueror consisteth : for 
this submission in itself implieth them all. Conquest, is not 
the victory itself; but the acquisition, by victory, of a right 
over the persons of men. He therefore that is slain, is 
overcome, but not conquered :he that is taken, and put into 
prison, or chains, is not conquered, though overcome ; for 
he is still an enemy, and may save himself if he can : but 
he that upon promise of obedience, hath his life and liberty 
allowed him, is then conquered, and a subject; and not 
before. The Romans used to say, that their general had 
pacified such a province, that is to say, in English, con- 
quered it; and that the country was pacified by victory, 
when the people of it had promised impcrata facere, that 
is, to do what the Roman people commanded them: this 
was to be conquered. But this promise may be either ex- 
press, or tacit : express, by promise : tacit, by other signs. 
As for example, a man that hath not been called to make 
such an express promise, because he is one whose power 
perhaps is not considerable ; yet if he live under their pro- 
tection openly, he is understood to submit himself to the 
government: but if he live there secretly, he is liable to 
anything that may be done to a spy, and enemy of the 



372 LEVIATHAN 

state. I say not, he does any injustice; for acts of open 
hostility bear not that name; but that he may be justly 
put to death. Likewise, if a man, when his country is 
conquered, be out of it, he is not conquered, nor subject: 
but if at his return, he submit to the government, he is 
bound to obey it. So that conquest, to define it, is the ac- 
quiring of the right of sovereignty by victory. Which 
right, is acquired in the people's submission, by which they 
contract with the victor, promising obedience for life and 
liberty. 

In Chapter xxix, I have set down for one of the causes 
of the dissolutions of commonwealths, their imperfect 
generation, consisting in the want of an absolute and 
arbitrary legislative power; for want whereof, the civil 
sovereign is fain to handle the sword of justice uncon- 
stantly, and as if it were too hot for him to hold. One 
reason whereof, which I have not there mentioned, is this, 
that they will all of them justify the war, by which their 
power was at first gotten, and whereon, as they think, 
their right dependeth, and not on the possession. As if, 
for example, the right of the kings of England did depend 
on the goodness of the cause of William the Conqueror, 
and upon their lineal, and directest descent from him ; by 
which means, there would perhaps be no tie of the sub- 
jects' obedience to their sovereign at this day in all the 
world: wherein whilst thy needlessly think to justify 
themselves, they justify all the successful rebellions that 
ambition shall at any time raise against them, and their 
successors. Therefore I put down for one of the most 
effectual seeds of the death of any state, that the conquer- 
ors require not only a submission of men's actions to them 
for the future, but also an approbation of all their actions 
past ; when there is scarce a commonwealth in the world, 
whose beginnings can in conscience be justified. 



CONCLUSION 373 

And because the name of tyranny, signifieth nothing 
more, nor less, than the name of sovereignty, be it in 
one, or many men, saving that they that use the former 
word, are understood to be angry with them they call 
tyrants; I think the toleration of a professed hatred of 
tyranny, is a toleration of hatred to commonwealth in 
general, and another evil seed, not differing much from 
the former. For to the justification of the cause of a 
conqueror, the reproach of the cause of the conquered, is 
for the most part necessary : but neither of them necessary 
for the obligation of the conquered. And thus much I 
have thought fit to say upon the review of the first and 
second part of this discourse. 

In Chapter xxxv, I have sufficiently declared out of 
the Scripture, that in the commonwealth of the Jews, God 
himself was made the sovereign, by pact with .the people; 
who were therefore called his peculiar people, to distin- 
guish them from the rest of the world, over whom God 
reigned not by their consent, but by his own power: and 
that in this kingdom Moses was God's lieutenant on earth ; 
and that it was he that told them what laws God appointed 
them to be ruled by. But I have omitted to set down who 
were the officers appointed to do execution ; especially in 
capital punishments ; not then thinking it a matter of so 
necessary consideration, as I find it since. We know that 
generally in all commonwealths, the execution of corporal 
punishments, was either put upon the guards, or other 
soldiers of the sovereign power; or given to those, in 
whom want of means, contempt of honour, and hardness 
of heart, concurred, to make them sue for such an office. 
But amongst the Israelites it was a positive law of God 
their sovereign, that he that was convicted of a capital 
crime, should be stoned to death by the people ; and that 
the witnesses should cast the first stone, and after the wit- 



374 LEVIATHAN 

nesses, then the rest of the people. This was a law that 
designed who were to be the executioners; but not that 
any one should throw a stone at him before conviction and 
sentence, where the congregation was judge. The wit- 
nesses were nevertheless to be heard before they proceeded 
to execution, unless the fact were committed in the pres- 
ence of the congregation itself, or in sight of the lawful 
judges ; for then there needed no other witnesses but the 
judges themselves. Nevertheless, this manner of proceed- 
ing being not thoroughly understood, hath given occasion 
to a dangerous opinion, that any man may kill another, 
in some cases, by a right of zeal ; as if the executions 
done upon offenders in the kingdom of God in old time, 
proceeded not from the sovereign command, but from the 
authority of private zeal : which, if we consider the texts 
that seem to favour it, is quite contrary. 

First, where the Levites fell upon the people, that had 
made and worshipped the Golden Calf, and slew three 
thousand of them ; it was by the commandment of Moses, 
from the mouth of God ; as is manifest, Exod. xxxii. 2J. 
And when the son of a woman of Israel had blasphemed 
God, they that heard it, did not kill him, but brought 
him before Moses, who put him under custody, till God 
should give sentence against him ; as appears, Levit. xxiv. 
II, 12. Again, (Numb. xxv. 6, y), when Phinehas killed 
Zimri and Cosbi, it was not by right of private zeal : their 
crime was committed in the sight of the assembly; there 
needed no witness; the law was known, and he the heir- 
apparent to the sovereignty; and, which is the principal 
point, the lawfulness of his act depended wholly upon a 
subsequent ratification by Moses, whereof he had no cause 
to doubt. And this presumption of a future ratification, 
is sometimes necessary to the safety of a commonwealth ; 
as in a sudden rebellion, any man that can suppress it by 



CONCLUSION 375 

his own power in the country where it begins, without 
express law or commission, my lawfully do it, and provide 
to have it ratified, or pardoned, whilst it is in doing, or 
after it is done. Also Numb. xxxv. 30, it is expressly said, 
Whosoever shall kill the murderer, shall kill him upon 
the word of witnesses: but witnesses suppose a formal 
judicature, and consequently condemn that pretence of 
jus zelotarum. The law of Moses concerning him that 
enticeth to idolatry, that is to say, in the kingdom of God 
to a renouncing of his allegiance, (Dent. xiii. 8, 9), for- 
bids to conceal him, and commands the accuser to cause 
him to be put to death, and to cast the first stone at him ; 
but not to kill him before he be condemned. And (Dent. 
xvii. 4, 5, 6, 7), the process against idolatry is exactly set 
down : for God there speaketh to the people, as judge, and 
commandeth them, when a man is accused of idolatry, 
to enquire diligently of the fact, and finding it true, then 
to stone him; but still the hand of the witness throweth 
the first stone. This is not private zeal, but public con- 
demnation. In like manner when a father hath a rebel- 
lious son, the law is, {Dent. xxi. 18-21), that he shall 
bring him before the judges of the town, and all the peo- 
ple of the town shall stone him. Lastly, by pretence of 
these laws it was, that St. Stephen was stoned, and not by 
pretence of private zeal : for before he was carried away 
to execution, he had pleaded his cause before the high- 
priest. There is nothing in all this, nor in any other part 
of the Bible, to countenance executions by private zeal ; 
which being oftentimes but a conjunction of ignorance 
and passion, is against both the justice and peace of a 
commonwealth. 

In chapter xxxvi, I have said, that it is not declared 
in what manner God spake supernaturally to Moses : nor 
that he spake not to him sometimes by dreams and vis- 



376 LEVIATHAN 

ions, and by a supernatural voice, as to other prophets: 
for the manner how he spake unto him from the mercy- 
seat, is expressly set down, Numbers vii. 89, in these 
words, From that time forward, when Moses entered into 
the Tabernacle of the congregation to speak with God, 
he heard a voice which spake unto him from over the 
mercy-seat, which is over the Ark of the testimony; 
from betzveen the cherubims he spake unto him. But it 
is not declared in what eonsisteth the preeminence of 
the manner of God's speaking to Moses, above that of 
his speaking to other prophets, as to Samuel, and to Abra- 
ham, to whom he also spake by a voice, (that is, by vis- 
ion), unless the difference consist in the clearness of the 
vision. For face to face, and mouth to mouth, cannot be 
literally understood of the infiniteness, and incomprehen- 
sibility of the Divine nature. 

And as to the whole doctrine, I see not yet, But the 
principles of it are true and proper ; and the ratiocination 
solid. For I ground the civil right of sovereigns, and both 
the duty and liberty of subjects, upon the known natural 
inclinations of mankind, and upon the articles of the law 
of nature; of which no man, that pretends but reason 
enough to govern his private family, ought to be igno- 
rant. And for the power ecclesiastical of the same sov- 
ereigns, I ground it on such texts, as are both evident in 
themselves, and consonant to the scope of the whole Scrip- 
ture. And therefore am persuaded, that he that shall 
read it with a purpose only to be informed, shall be 
informed by it. But for those that by writing, or public 
discourse, or by their eminent actions, have already en- 
gaged themselves to the maintaining of contrary opin- 
ions, they will not be so easily satisfied. For in such 
cases, it is natural for men, at one and the same time, 
both to proceed in reading, and to lose their attention, in 



CONCLUSION 377 

the search of objections to that they had read before. Of 
which in a time wherein the interests of men are changed, 
(seeing much of that doctrine, which serveth to the es- 
tablishing of a new government, must needs be contrary to 
that which conduced to the dissolution of the old), there 
cannot choose but be very many. 

In that part which treateth of a Christian common- 
wealth, there are some new doctrines, which, it may be, 
in a state where the contrary were already fully deter- 
mined, were a fault for a subject without leave to divulge, 
as being an usurpation of the place of a teacher. But in 
this time, that men call not only for peace, but also for 
truth, to offer such doctrines as I think true, and that 
manifestly tend to peace and loyalty, to the consideration 
of those that are yet in deliberation, is no more, but 
to offer new wine, to be put into new casks, that both 
may be preserved together. And I suppose, that then, 
when novelty can breed no trouble nor disorder in a state, 
men are not generally so much inclined to the reverence of 
antiquity, as to prefer ancient errors, before new and 
well-proved truth. 

There is nothing I distrust more than my elocution, 
which nevertheless I am confident, excepting the mis- 
chances of the press, is not obscure. That I have neglect- 
ed the ornament of quoting ancient poets, orators, and 
philosophers, contrary to the custom of late time, whether 
I have done well or ill in it, proceedeth from my judg- 
ment, grounded on many reasons. For first, all truth of 
doctrine dependeth either upon reason, or upon Scrip- 
ture; both which give credit to many, but never re- 
ceive it from any writer. Secondly, the matters in ques- 
tion are not of fact, but of right, wherein there is no 
place for witnesses. There is scarce any of those old writ- 
ers, that contradicteth not sometimes both himself and 



378 LEVIATHAN 

others ; which makes their testimonies insufficient. Fourth- 
ly, such opinions as are taken only upon credit of antiqui- 
ty, are not intrinsically the judgment of those that cite 
them, but words that pass, like gaping, from mouth to 
mouth. Fifthly, it is many times with a fraudulent design 
that men stick their corrupt doctrine with the cloves of 
other men's wit. Sixthly, I find not that the ancients they 
cite, took it for an ornament, to do the like with those 
that wrote before them. Seventhly, it is an argument of 
indigestion, when Greek and Latin sentences unchewed 
come up again, as they used to do, unchanged. Lastly, 
though I reverence those men of ancient time, that either 
have written truth perspicuously, or set us in a better 
way to find it out ourselves; yet to the antiquity it- 
self I think nothing due. For if we will reverence the 
age, the present is the oldest. If the antiquity of the 
writer, I am not sure, that generally they to whom such 
honour is given, were more ancient when they wrote, 
than I am that am writing. But if it be well considered, 
the praise of ancient authors, proceeds not from the rev- 
erence of the dead, but from the competition, and mutual 
envy of the living. 

To conclude, there is nothing in this whole discourse, 
nor in that I writ before of the same subject in Latin, as 
tar as I can perceive, contrary either to the Word of 
God, or to good manners; or to the disturbance of the 
public tranquility. Therefore I think it may be profit- 
ably printed, and more profitably taught in the Uni- 
versities, in case they also think so, to whom the judg- 
ment of the same belongeth. For seeing the Universities 
are the fountains of civil and moral doctrine, from whence 
the preachers, and the gentry, drawing such water as 
they find, use to sprinkle the same (both from the pul- 
pit and in their conversation), upon the people, there 



CONCLUSION 379 

ought certainly to be great care taken, to have it pure, 
both from the venom of heathen politicians, and from the 
incantation of deceiving spirits. And by that means 
the most men, knowing their duties, will be the less sub- 
ject to serve the ambition of a few discontented per- 
sons, in their purposes against the state; and be the less 
grieved with the contributions necessary for their peace, 
and defence ; and the governors themselves have the 
less cause, to maintain at the common charge any great- 
er army, than is necessary to make good the public lib- 
erty, against the invasions and encroachments of foreign 
enemies. 

And thus I have brought to an end my Discourse of 
Civil and Ecclesiastical Government, occasioned by the 
disorders of the present time, without partiality, without 
application, and without other design than to set before 
men's eyes the mutual relation between protection and 
obedience ; of which the condition of human nature, 
and the laws divine, both natural and positive, require an 
inviolable observation. And though in the revolution of 
states, there can be no very good constellation for truths 
of this nature to be born under, (as having an angry 
aspect from the dissolvers of an old government, and 
seeing but the backs of them that erect a new), yet I 
cannot think it will be condemned at this time, either by 
the public judge of doctrine, or by any that desires the 
continuance of public peace. And in this hope I return 
to my interrupted speculation of bodies natural ; wherein, 
if God give me health to finish it, I hope the novelty 
will as much please, as in the doctrine of this artificial 
body it useth to offend. For such truth, as opposeth 
no man's profit, nor pleasure, is to all men welcome. 



INDEX 



Note : References to the Notes usually include the text. 



Abstract names, 26n.. 28f., 127. 
Abstraction, accidents not capable 
of, 29f. 
definition of, 30. 
Absurdity, causes of, 136. 
definition of, 135, 191. 
in reasoning, 24. 
like injustice, 254, 295. 
Accidents, abstraction of, impos- 
sible, 29f. 
but apparitions, 100. 
causes of conceptions and names, 

29. 
contingent, 61n. 
definition of, 29. 42n. 
method or seeking, 55f. 
Action, and passion, mediate and 
immediate, 57n. 
definition and description of, 57n. 
indifferent, instituted as signs or 

honor, 15n., 353. 
voluntary, 159. 
Addition and subtraction in 

thought, 4f. 
Admiration, 155. 
Affirmation, errors in, 39f. 
Agent, definition of, 57n.f. 
Ambition, 154. 
Anger, 154. 
Angles, doctrine of, excluded from 

philosophy, 10. 
Animal spirits, 93. 
Antecedent of a proposition, 27f, 
33n. 



Antiquity, reverence for 377f. 
Apparent, sometimes opposed to 

true, 31. 
Appearances, and effects, 6, 61n- 
and things themselves, 55. 
definition of, 3n. 
equivalents of, 94. 
of sense determined by motion, 
53. 
Appellations. 19f. See Names, 
alone universal, 21. 
arbitrary, 19. 
equivocal, 22. 
Appetite, definition of, 143n.. 145. 

inborn, 146. 
Arbitrators, 290, 305. 
Aristotle, 44, 73n.. 85, 148n., 150n., 

302, 321. 
Arts, demonstrable and indemon- 
strable, 71n. 
greatest commodities of mankind. 
8. 
Astrology, excluded from philoso- 
phy, 11. 
Authority, 314. 
of God, derived from his power. 
344. 
Authors, 314f. 
Axioms, of Euclid, 66. 



Belief, 175, 177n. 
Benevolence, 154. 
BluFhing, 1F7. 



382 



INDEX 



Body, abstract names and the 
properties of, 30f. 

accidents of, 30, 55. See Acci- 
dent. 

action of, on each other, 57n. 

definition of, 29, 41n. 

generation of, the subject of 
philosophy, 10. 

kinds of, llf. 

motion from lucid, 98. 



Causation, general doctrine of, 

56f., 57n.f., 218. 
Cause, definition of, 56f, 57n. 
efficient, 35, 58n., 62n. 
entire, 58n. 
false. 74f. 
first, how far discoverable, 62n., 

218. 
formal, 35, 62n. 
how one proposition is cause of 

another, 34f. 
material, 58n. 

method of seeking the, 55f. 
necessary, 57n., 59n.. 61n., 167, 

169. 
of the whole, 48, 49. 
of the succession of conceptions, 

18f. 
partial, 58n. 

universal cause motion, 50-f. 
Causes, demonstration possible 

only when causes are known, 

71n. 
diversity of effects, 60n. 
highest and most universal, 50. 
ignorance of, 213f. 
like effects produced by like, 60n. 
of a commonwealth, 319f. 
of conceptions and names, 28, 29. 
of concrete names denoted by 

abstract names, 29. 
of things, demonstration of, the 

aim of science, 67 72n. 
of universal and singular things, 
how known, 49f. 
philosophy the knowldege of, 2, 

46. 
science of, 46f. 



Caveats, of concluding from ex- 
perience, 118n. 
Chance, 61n. 
Charity, 154. 

Children, not endowed with rea- 
son. 138. 
Cogitation, error of, 40. 
Cogitations, names signs of, 17f., 

18n. 
Color, and light, 99. 
cause of, 98f. 
not in object, 99. 
Commonwealth, an artificial man, 
81f. 
causes of, 319f. 
definition of. llf., 323. 
how subjects are released from 

obligation to, 326n. 
outline of discussion, 82. 
when instituted, 325f. 
Complaisance, 286, 299. 
Composition, method of, 47, 51. 
Computation, definition of, 4f. 
use of abstract names in, 30f. 
Conceptions, clear and obscure, 
104n. 
coherence of, how recalled, 24. 
definition, the explication of, 51. 
generations or descriptions of, 

51. 
how compounded, 5f. 
many of the same thing, 20. 
names of, 20. 

names signs of, 17f., 18n., 19f. 
necessity of marks for, 14. 
succession of, ISf. 
their limitations, 119. 
words to which none corres- 
ponds, 25. 
Conclusion, according to and a- 
gainst reason, 24. 
how it follows from premises, 

34f., 36f. 
of a syllogism, 36f. 
Confess, definition of, 32n. 
Confidence, 154. 

Connexion, of names, divers kinds 
of speech arising from, 26. 
signs of, in a proposition, 27f. 
Conquest, 372. 



INDEX 



383 



Conscience, 174n. 

Consequence, in propositions, 32f. 

or repugnance, names showing, 
18n. 
Consequent, or predicate of a 

proposition, 211., 33n. 
Consider, definition of, 6. 
Construction, petitions or postulata 

principles of, 67. 
Contempt, 146. 

Contingency, a defect in knowl- 
edge. 170. 
Contingent, 61n., 170. 
Contract, cannot be annulled by 
consent of contractors, 329n, 

definition of, 256, 270. 

in general, 251f. 

obligation derived from, 254n. 

signs of, 257. 

when invalid. 274f. 

See Covenant. 
Controversy, importance of defi- 
nitions in, 69. 
Contumely, 287, 301. 
Copula, abstract names proceed 
from, 30. 

fallacies arising from, 43. 
Copulation, in propositions. 18n., 

27f.. 41f., 43. 
Courage, 154. 
Covenant, definition of, 256, 270. 

how dissolved, 261, 273. 

how enforced, 259f. 

kept thorugh fear, 263f. 

not invalid if made through fear, 
262, 273. 

when void, 262f. 

with whom not made. 260, 272. 

See Contract. 
Covetousness, 154. 
Craft, 182. 
Crime, 236n. 
Cruelty, 157, 287, 301. 
Curiosity, definition of, 155. 

its relation to philosophy. 155. 



Deceptions, of the senses, 25. 
Defect, names signifying, 20. 



Definition, every proposition uni- 
versally true is a, 43. 
falsity of propositions detected 

by, 42f. 
first beginning of teaching phil- 
osophy, 70. 
from philosophia prima, 12n., 72n. 
genus and difference in, 68. 
nature and definition of, 67f, 68m. 
of same name when different, 

70. 
only way to know Is by, 65n. 
properties of, 69f. 
should express cause when pos- 
sible, 66f., 67n. 
true demonstrations follow from 

true, 71. 
two kinds of, 65f. 
universal and primary princi- 
ples, 3n., 65f., 66n. 
Dejection, 156. 

Deliberation, definition of, 158, 
159n. 
in beasts, 158. 
its limits, 158. 
See Will. 
Demonstration, axioms of Euclid 
in, 66f. 
definition of, 71. 
faults of, 74f. 
in natural philosophy, 52. 
methods of, 64f. 
nature of, 70f. 
necessity of syllogistical speech 

in, 65. 
of causes, the end of science, 67. 
possible only when causes are 

known, 71n. 
properties and order of, 72f. 
rules of, 72n. 

two causes of error In, 72n. 
use of words in, 65. 
Denial and affirmation, errors in, 

39f. 
Despair, 154. 
Determinately true, meaning of, 

34n. 
Dictum, or proposition, 27. 
Diffidence, 154. 
Dignity, 199. 



3^4 



INDEX 



Discourse, of the mind, 24f\, 113n., | 

114. 
Division, 47. 
Doubt, definition of, 173. 
Dreams, and imagination, 105f. 

and religion, 110. 

cause of, 106, 107n. 

difference between them and 
reality, 106, 108, 109n. 

ghosts and visions, 108n. 

their characteristics, 107n. 

variety of, explained, 100. 
Due, 258. 



Effect, definition of, 57n. 

produced by necessary cause, 
59n. 

See Cause. 
Effects, and appearances defined, 
6. 

how ascertained, 6f., 56f. 

philosophy the knowledge of 
their generation, 2f, 46. 
Emulation, 158. 
Endeavor, definition of, 144, 145n. 

relation to sense, 88, 92. 
End of science, 67n. 

or final cause, 62n. 
Envy, 158. 

Equality, of men, 232, 244, 287, 302. 
Equity, 81, 289 303. 
Equivocation 22, 25, 43f., 68n., 69, 

73n. 
Erring and falsity, how they differ, 

39f. 
Error, committed only by man 1 , 32. 

definition of, 135. 

due to the misunderstanding of 
speech, 31. 
Errors, formal, 43f. 

how they arise, 39f. 

in affirming and denying, 39f. 

in demonstration, causes of, 72n. 

in reasoning, 41. 

material, 41f. 

names the causes of, 40. 

of sense and cogitation, 40. 

their rectification. 25. 
Essence, an artificial word, 26n. 

or formal cause, 62n. 



unnecessary term in philosophy, 
31. 
Ethics, definition of, 11. 
See Moral Philosophy. 
Experience, and memory, 3n., 47n., 
104n. 
appeal to, for proof, 25, 54, 83, 

118n., 168. 
caveats of concluding from, 118n. 
knowledge of history, lOf. 
not philosophy, 3n. 
two kinds of, 47n. 
Extension, cause of name body, 29 

Faculties, of bodies, 6. 
Faith, definition of, 175, 177n. 

its causes various, 360. 

its objects, 359. 

not philosophy, 4n. 
Fallacies, formal, 43f. 

material, 41f. 
Falsity, and erring, how they dif- 
fer, 39f. 

and truth, matters of language, 
24. 

cannot follow from truth, 34. 

how it arises, 39f. 

in reasoning, 39f. 

of propositions, 23f., 31f., 40f„ 
42f. 
Fancy, 85, 113. 179f. 
Fear, definition of, 154. 

influence on covenants, 263f. 

origin of society, 243. 

promises made through, not In- 
valid, 262, 273. 
Feigned, opposed to true, 31. 
Felicity, 164, 208, 209n. 
Fictions, have names, 17. 
Figures, cause of their variety, 

50f. 
Fire, caused by motion, 98. 
Form of matter, whether names 

signify, 17. 
Forms of speech, names of, 18n, 
Fortitude. 154. 
Future, a name, 17. 
Freedom. See Liberty. 



INDEX 



3«5 



Generation, definitions should ex- 
press, 66f., 67n. 
of bodies and effects the subject 

of philosophy, 2f., 10, 46. 
of things, demonstration of, the 

end of science, 67n., 72n. 
of conceptions, 51. 
reasoning from, 3n., 6f. 
Geometry, demonstrable, 72n. 
study of, the beginning of natur- 

ral philosophy, 53. 
what we consider in, 51, 53. 
Geometricians, art of. 75f. 
Ghosts, 108n. 
Glorying, 156. 

God, doctrine of his worship ex- 
cluded from philosophy, 11. 
his attribute. 348f., 350. 
his authority derived from his 

power, 344. 
his laws, 346f. 
his natural punishments, 353. 
kingdom of, 342f. 
limits of our knowledge of, 63n., 

119. 
names attributed to, by appoint- 
ment, 14n., 347. 
names imposed arbitrarily by, 16. 
worship of, 346f. 
Good, general discusison of, 147n., 
293, 310. 
metaphysical, 151n. 
relation to pleasure and pain, 

148n., 149n. 
relative and not absolute, 146, 

147n. 
three kinds of, 149. 
Gratitude. 285. 299. 

Hate, definition of, 146. 

Heat, not in object, but in man, 

100. 
Heart, fountain of all sense, 89. 
Heraldry. 204. 
History, definition of, 193. 

excluded from philosophy, lOf. 
Honor, 198f. 
Hope, 154. 

Idea, relation to definition, 67f. 
Ideas, names of. 17, 18n. 
no universal, 21, 22n. 



Ignorance of causes, 21 3f. 

Image, an apparition of motion, 98. 

Images, after-, 42n. 

names of, 18n. 

words to which none corres- 
ponds, 25. 
Imagination, and dreams, 105f. 

and memory, 103. 

and motion, 113. 

and other mental processes, 103n. 

and sense, 103n. 

and sense, origin of moral mo- 
tions, 53, 144. 

and sense, the subject of physi- 
cal contemplation, 53. 

and understanding. Ill, 112n. 

and universal names, 22n. 

beginning of voluntary motion, 
144. 

cause of its coherence, 113, 114n. 

definition of, 101f., 103. 

dependence on time. 102. 

none of the infinite, 62n., llf. 

phantasms of, 47. 

simple and compound, 104f. 

trains of, 113f. 
Impossible, a name, 17f. 
Impudence, 157. 
Indeterminate, 61n., 170. 
Indignation, 154. 
Inference, of one proposition from 

another, 32f. 
Infinite, no conception of, 62n., 119. 

opinions of, how regulated, 62n. 
Infinitives, abstract names, 28n., 

29. 
Injury, 283f., 295f. 
Injustice, like absurdity, 254, 295. 

See Justice. 
Inspiration, doctrine of, excluded 
from philosophy, 11. 

opinion of. 185. 
Interrogations, 26. 
Invention, method of, 64f. 

of names necessary for knowl- 
edge, 24. 

Jealousy, 155. 

Judgment, and memory, 113n. 

definition of, 172, 179f. 

good, 113, 179. 



386 



INDEX 



Justice, definition of, 278f. 

kinds of. 283f., 296f. 

its source in covenants, 278, 296f. 

none actual outside of civil so- 
ciety, 238, 278f. 

See Good and Right. 
Justification, 363. 



Kindness, 155. 

Kingdom, of God by nature, 342f, 

Knowledge, absolute, 193. 

all derived from sense, 86. 

beginnings of, 47, 140n. 

but remembrance, 47n. 

conditional, 173, 193. 

contingency, a defect in, 170. 

definition of, 33n., 140n. 

its limitations, 119, 141n. 

its principles, 140n. 

its several subjects, 193f. 

kinds of, 47n., I40n., 193. 

names necessary to, 24. 

of effects and causes, 46f. 

of fact, 173. 

of singulars and universals, 47f. 

original, 47n. 

Sec Philosophy and Science. 

Language, and ratiocination, 24. 

invention of, 24. 

its use, 24f. 
Laughter, definition and cause of, 

156. 
Laws, divine, 346f., 358. 

divine, how declared, 343. 

divine, how executed, 373. 

moral, 293, 309. 

natural, 251f., 265f., 278f., 294f., 
369. 

natural, are eternal, 292, 309. 

natural, contrary to natural pas- 
sions, 319. 

natural, how far they oblige, 291, 
307. 

natural, need of power to en- 
force, 319. 

natural, the fundamental, 253, 



natural. See Arbitrators, Com- 
plaisance, Contumely, Equal- 
ity, Equity, Gratitude, Justice, 
Lot, Meekness, Pardon, Pun- 
ishment, Safe conduct, Tem- 
perance, 
soverign not subject to, 332n. 
Leviathan, 81, 323. 
Liberality, 154. 
Liberty, 160n., 251... 

and necessity, general doctrine 
of, 160n.. 165f. 
Light, and color, 99. 
cause of, 59f., 98f. 
Logistiea, of geometricians, 75f. 
Lot, decision by, 289, 303. 
Love, definitions of, 146, 155. 
Lust, natural, 155. 
Luxury, 155. 



Madness, its cause, 187. 

its kinds, 184. 
Magnanimity, 154. 
Majorities, 3l6f. 

Man, how different from beasts, 
116f. 

not naturally sociable, 302, 321f. 

the idea of, 5. 
Manners, difference of, 208f. 
Marks, and signs, difference be- 
tween, 15f., 65. 

defined, 13, 19. 

names used as, 15f., 19f., 64f. 

necessity of, 13f., 19, 64. 
Matter, how divided, 56. 

or accident, method of determin- 
ing, 55. 

or form, whether names signi- 
fy, 17. 
Meekness, 283, 302. 
Melancholy, 185. 
Memory, and experience, 104n. 

and imagination, 103, 104n. 

and judgment, 113n. 

inconstancy of, 13, 19. 

knowledge by means of, 47n. 

necessity of marks for, 13, 19. 
64f. 
Metaphors, equivocal, 22, 43f.. 139. 



INDEX 



387 



Metaphysics, and abstract names, 
30. 
use of incoherent words in, 27. 
Method, analytical, 50, 54, 56, 64, 
definition of, 46. 
in general. 46f. 
kinds of, 47, 49f., 51, 54. 
of demonstration, 72f. 
of invention, 64f. 
of philosophy, 3n. 
of seeking cause, 56f. 
of teaching, 64f. 
synthetical, 54, 55, 56, 64, 65. 
Mind, acts of the, 104n., 118. 
cause of differences in powers of, 

183f. 
discourse of, 113n., 116. 
motions of, 53, 118. 
Miracles, 228. 
Moral philosophy, 9f., 53, 145f., 293, 

309. 
Motion, and imagination, 113. 
animal, 95. 143. 
appearance of things of sense 

determined by, 53. 
cause of color, etc., 98f. 
definition of, 29, 51, 66. 
fallacy of Zeno's ai-gument 

against, 44f. 
habitual, 24f. 
kinds of, 143. 
laws of, 59n.f. 
method of inquiry concerning, 

51f. 
mutation consists in. 50, 59n., 

60n.f. 
of the mind, 53f., 118. 
the universal cause. 50f. 
vital, 95, 143. 
voluntary, 24, 144. 
Multitude, when one person, 316. 
Mutation. 50, 59n., 60n.f. 



Names, abstract, 26n., 28f., 30, 127. 
accidents, the cause of, 29. 
advantages and uses of, 15f., 20, 

64f., 70, 121, 123, 124. 
alone universal, 21n., 123. 
arbitrary. 14n„ 16f., 19, 70. 



cause of, to be sought in things, 

28. 
causes of knowledge and error, 

24. 
common, 21n., 122. 
compounded, 70. 
concrete, 25n., 28f., 29. 
copulated, 41. 

definition of, 15, 16, 19, 65f., 120. 
definition only the explication of, 

67f., 70. 
diversified by passion, 25. 
errors in the use of, 39f., 41f. 
equivocal, 22, 25. 
first truths arbitrarily made by 

imposition of, 32. 
incoherent, 26, 41, 130. 
inconstant, 130. 
indefinite, 21. 
individual, 20f., 122. 
in general. 13f., 19f., 64f., 69f., 

120f. 
kinds of, ISn., 20, 41. 122, 127f. 
meaningless, 128. 
negative, 128. 

not necessarily names of some- 
thing, 17f., 28n. 
of an accident, a predicate, 37f. 
of a thing, a subject, 37f. 
of fancies, 127. 
of matter, 127. 
of number, 20, 124. 
of qualities, 20. 
of speeches, 26, 128. 
positive 20, 23. 
privative, 20, 23. 
proper, 21, 122. 
signs of conceptions, 17f., 19. 
singular, 20f. 

universal, 20f., 21n., 64f., 123. 
what we give names to, 17f., 20, 
126. 
Necessity, general doctrine of, 59n., 

61n., 160n., 165f. 
Nothing, a name, 18. 
Number, names of, 20. 

necessity of, 20. 
Natural condition of mankind, 

232f. 
Natural laws. See Law. 
Nature, laws of. See Law. 



388 



INDEX 



Oaths, 264, 276. 

Obedience to Christian and hea- 
then sovereigns, 364f. 

Objects, and motion, 50f. 
names of, 20. 

Obligation, derived from contract, 
254n. 

Opinion, 172. 

Optic nerve, function in sight, 
98f. 

Pain, definition of, 151, 153n. 
Panic, 155. 
Paralogisms, 25, 74. 
Pardon, 286, 300. 
Parsimony, 155. 
Passion, definition of, 57n. 
Passions, beginning of voluntary 
motions and speech, 24, 143f. 

cause of different names for, 153. 

in general, 143f. 

names diversified by, 25. 

simple, 153. 

verbal expressions for, 160f. 
Patient, definition of, 57n. 
Peace, a dictate of reason, 250. 
Perception, errors of, 40. 

knowledge through, 47. 
Persons, 313f. 
Petitions or postulata, 67. 
Petitio principii, 74. 
Phantasms, 17, 37, 42n., 47, 55, 62n., 

87, 88, 92. 
Phenomena definition of, 3n. 
Philosophy, abstract names in, 30f. 

but one kind of speech useful 
in, 27. 

civil, 8f., 11, 53f., 72n., 73, 

definition of, 2f.. 12, 46. 

end or scope of, 7. 

first, 12n., 72n. 

identified with natural reason, If. 

kinds of, 11, 12n., 193n. 

marks and signs necessary for, 
13f. 

methods of, 3n., 51f., 73. 

moral, 9f., 53, 145f., 293, 309. 

natural, 11, 51f., 53, 55. 

principal parts of, llf., 12n. 

subjects of, 10f., 62n. 



teaching of, begins from defi- 
nitions, 70. 

utility of, 7f. 

what men search after in, 49f. 

See Knowledge and Science. 
Physical contemplation, its sub- 
ject, 53. 
Physics, Sn., 12n., 52, 75. 
Pity, 157. 

Place, definition of, 51. 
Pleasure, definition of, 151, 153n. 
. kinds of, 152. 
Politics, definition of, 11. 

See Civil philosophy. 
Power, 196f., 198n. 

desire for, a general inclination, 
208. 
Praise, 164. 
Precepts of reason, 250,. 251, 252, 

266. 
Predicate of a proposition, 27f., 

33n,. 37. 
Pride, 288, 302. 

Principles, not in need of demon- 
stration, 65, 69. 

first, of knowledge, 51. 

reasoning from, 23f. 

universal and primary, 3n., 65f., 
66n. 

use of term by Aristotle, 44. 
Privation, names for, 20, 23. 
Profess, definition of, 32n. 
Properties and abstract names, 30f. 

definition of, 6. 

how known by generation, 6f. 
Property, none outside of civil so- 
ciety, 239, 247f., 334. 
Propositions, affirmative and nega- 
tive, 23. 

consequence of, 32f. 

contingent, 33n. 

definition of, 23, 27f. 

in general, 27f. 

major and minor, 37. 

predicate of, 27f., 33n. 

received as truth, why, 33n. 

science, knowledge of the truth 
of, 47n. 

singular, 3n. 

subject of, 27f, 33n. 



INDEX 



389 



Propositions, true and false, 23. 
27, 31f., 33n., 41f. 
truth and falsity, a matter of, 

31f.. 32n. 
universal and primary, 3n., 65f., 
66n. 
Prudence, 3n.. 110, 182. 
Punishment. 2ST, 301. 353. 
Pusillanimity, 154. 



Qualities, of sense. 94. 96. 

sensible, but motion, 85, ST. 

sensible, only in the sentient, 
96f. 
Quality and quantity. ."3. 

names of, 20. 



Ratiocination, and language, 24. 
in general. 4f., 23f., 32. 
true, 32. 
Rational, idea of, 5. 
Reason, a law of nature, 252, 266. 
and science, 131f. 
definition of, 6, 132. 
knowledge of universals acquired 

by. 49f. 
natural, If. 
limits of natuial, 351. 
not natural, but acquired, 137f. 
precepts of. 250, 251, 252, 266. 
right, 4n., 23f., 132f., 151n., 152n., 

266. 
same in all men. 252n. 
use and end of, 134. 
Reasoning, and abstract names, 
30f. 
errors in, 25, 39f., 41. 
in general, 3n., 4f., 23f. 
from authority of books, not 

philosophy, 4n. 
produces general and eternal 

truth, 4n. 
rnght, 4n., 23f.. 132f., loin., 152n., 
266. 
Religion, 110, 155, 217f. 
Remembrance, all experience and 
knowledge but, 47n. 
definition of, 116. 
Representatives, 314f. 



Repugnance or consequence, names 

for, 18n. 
Resolution, knowledge acquired 
by. 49f. 

or division, 47. 
Revelation, not philosophy, 4n., 11. 
Rcvengefulness, 155. 
Right, how renounced, 253, 268. 

natural, 234n., 246f.. 251. 

See Justice. 
Rights, of sovereigns, 325f., 339n. 

of succession, 341n. 

which cannot be renounced, 255. 
262, 288. 302. 
Rules, of action, need of, 9f. 

Salvation, what necessary to, 356f. 
Sapience, definition of. 139, 140n. 
Science, all true ratiocination pro- 
duces, 71. 

and reason, 131f. 

causes of error in, 72n. 

classification of, 193f. 

conditional character of, 173, 193. 

definition of, 33n., 46f., 47n., 67n., 
140n., 193. 

dependence on names, 20. 

derived from precognition of 
causes, 72n. 

end of, 67. 

moral, the need of, 9f. 

number necessary to, 20. 

signs of, 141. 

sought after in two ways, 49f. 

Sec Knowledge and Philosophy. 
Sciences, the greatest of commod- 
ities, 8. 
Sense, all knowledge derived from, 
86. 

and imagination, 53, 103. 

and memory, not philosophy, 3. 

and motion, 84f., 87f., 96f., 102. 

as reaction. 90. 

cause of, 84, 86, 87. 

deceptions of, 25, 100. 

definition of, 85, 8S. 

errors of, 40. 

in knowledge by, whole object 
better known, 47f. 

knowledge through, 47n. 



39° 



INDEX 



Sense, nature of, 87. 
object of, 88, 89, 95. 
organs of, 89. 

original of man's thoughts, 84. 
perceives only one thing at a 

time, 91f. 
phantasms of, 47. 
physiology of, 89f., 93. 
qualities of, 94, 96. 
relation to memory, 90. 
subject of, 87, 88. 
succession of the acts of, 19.. 
variety of phantasms necessary 

to, 90f. 
variety of things perceived 

caused by motion, 50f. 
why outward, 85. 
Senses, conceptions of, 95f. 

number of, 9... 
Sensible qualities, but motion, 85, 

87. 
qualities, only in the sentient, 

96f. 
species. 85, 96. 

Shame, 157. 
Signs and marks, 15f. 
arbitrary, 14n. 
definition of, 14. 
errors arising from natural. 40. 
in demonstration, 65. 
kinds of, 14n. 
names used as, 15f. 
natural, 14n. 
necessity of, 14f. 

of connexion in a proposition, 
27f. 
Sin, 236n. 

Singulars and universals, knowl- 
edge of, 47f., 49f. 
Smell, not in object, 100. 
Society, natural fitness for, 240, 
321. 

origin in fear, 243. 
Sophists and sceptics, captions of, 

44f. 
Sovereigns, can do no injustice, 
330. 
cannot justly be punished, 332. 



obedience to Christian and hea- 
then, 364f. 

rights of, 325f., 339n. 

rights of succession of, 341n. 
Sovereignty, absolute and not to 
be divided, 336f. 

how attained, 324. 

when it may be changed, 370f. 
Species, sensible. 85f., 96. 
Speech, absurd, 26f. 

benefits derived from, 120. 

incoherent, 26f. 

definition of, 15. 

in general, 120f. 

kinds of, 26f. 

names of different forms of, 18n. 

passions of men the beginning 
of, 24. 

signification the end of, 27. 

syllogistical. 38, 65. 

truth and falsity belong to, 31f. 

uses and abuses of, 121f. 
Spirits, 187f. 
Square, idea of, 5. 
Subject, concrete the name of the, 
28. 

of a proposition, 27f., 33n. 

of the conclusion, 37. 
Subjects, how released from obli- 
gation, 326n. 

of God, 343. 
Supposing, definition of, 32n. 
Superstition, 155. 
Syllogism, a matter of speech, 38. 

definition and structure of, 36. 

in general, 23, 36f., 43f., 70f. 

material errors in, 41f. 

necessary in teaching or demon- 
stration, 65. 

terms of, 36f. 

thoughts in the mind answering 
to, 37f. 



Teaching, definition of. 65. 

method of, 64f. 

necessity of syllogistical speech 
in, 65. 

use of words in. 65. 
Temperance, 291, 307. 



INDEX 



39* 



Terms, equivocation of, 43f. 
fallacies in, 36f., 43. 
major, minor, and middle, 37. 
of the syllogism. 36f. 
Theology, not philosophy, 10. 
Theorems, 67. 

Things, abstract names do not de- 
note, 29. 
causes of their names, 28. 
errors do not arise from, 40. 
lawful to apply the word univer- 
sally, 18. 
many names or attributes for, 

20, 21n. 
names of, 18n., 19f. 
names not signs of, 17f. 
no universal, 21n. 
themselves and phantasms, 55. 
to which we gives names, 41. 
truth and falsity do not belong 
to. 31f. 
Thinking, definition of, 33n. 
Thoughts, inconstancy of, 13. 
in the mind answering to syl- 
logism, 37f. 
names as marks and signs of, 

15f., 19f. 
necessity of marks and signs 

for, 13f. 
their original sense, 84. 
what they are singly, 84. 
Torture, 263, 276. 
Train of imaginations, 113f. 
True, determinately, 34n. 
Truth, and falsity belong to 
speech, 24, 31f, 125. 
and falsity of propositions, 23, 

31f, 33n. 
must follow from truth and may 

from falsity, 34. 
propositions received as, 33n. 
reasoning contradictory to ev- 
ident, 24. 
Truths, first, arbitrarily made, 32. 

Understanding, and imagination, 
111, 112n. 
and speech, 112n. 



definition of, 22, 129. 
peculiar to man, 129. 
science derived from, 47n. 
Universal, nothing, but names, 
21n. 
notion given in definition, 69. 
propositions, 3n., 65f., 66n., 
Universals and singulars, knowl- 
edge of. 47f., 49f. 



Value. 198. 

Virtue, as habits, 149n. 

definition of, 178. 

intellectual, 178f. 

intellectual, causes of difference 
in. 179, 183. 
Vision, originates In motion, 99. 
Voluntary actions, 159. 

motions, passions the beginning 
of. 24. 143f. 



War, cause of, 8f., 234. 

Weeping, 156. 

Will, and deliberation, 158. 

definition of. 158, 159n. 

general doctrine of, 159n., 165f. 
Words, connected to form speech, 
15f. 

incoherent, 26f. 

insignificant, 30. 

seed of philosophy, 73n. 

truth and falsity a matter of, 
31f, 32n. 

use of. by appointment, 14n. 

uses of, 18n., 64f„ 124. 

See Names. 
Worth, 198. 
Worthiness, 20b. 

Worship, doctrine of. not philos- 
ophy, 11. 

its kinds, institution, and regu- 
lation, 15n., 346f. 



Zeno, arguments of, against mo- 
tion, 44f. 









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